Baby Steps
by SpyKid18
Summary: First comes marriage, then comes a baby.  Owen/Cristina
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Came up with this during church. Probably should have been listening to the sermon or something, lol. Hope you enjoy!**

Person

Cristina strode down the hospital corridor, looking around frantically for Meredith. Her person, she needed her person. Things were _happening_ and whenever things were_ happening_ it was Meredith and only Meredith who could talk her down from whatever frenzy she had worked herself into.

It occurred to her that perhaps this was something to discuss with Owen. And she would, in due time, but at this exact moment she needed her person. She needed to vent and rail before going to Owen; otherwise she was pretty sure he would reevaluate this whole marrying her thing.

A flash of blonde hair and Cristina reacted like a shark to blood in water. She turned sharply and found Meredith reading a chart while she wound her hair into a hasty bun.

"Mer, I need to talk to you."

Absentmindedly Meredith said, "I have a patient to check right-" she looked up, her mouth clamping shut when she saw the harried look on her friend's face. "You go to the locker room and I will make it quick with the patient."

"Thank you," Cristina murmured, "And, um, don't kill your patient because of me."

"I will do my best," Meredith said. "Go to the locker rooms and I'll be there soon."

Cristina turned and made her way to the locker room. All the while she glanced around her for any sign of Owen. He couldn't see her right now, not when she was one step away from crazy. She knew that he had seen her in worse shape. He had been in that OR with her and he had dealt with the aftermath. This was different, though. This involved him and if he knew how freaked out she was he-

"Cristina!"

She swore under her breath, turning at the sound of her husband's voice. She offered him a tight grin and the lines on his forehead deepened as he frowned and asked, "Everything okay?"

"More than," she assured him. "I was just heading to the lockers. I need, um, something."

"Something?" He grinned slightly at her evasiveness.

"Fine, I'm meeting Meredith," she admitted. Thinking quickly, she spun, "Her and Derek, you know they like to pretend they're the world's most dysfunctional couple."

Owen chuckled and moved forward, putting his arm around her waist. "Aren't you glad we're not like that?" He dropped a kiss to her lips and she considered telling him then. His lips on hers had quelled her fears somewhat and with her hands on his shoulders she saw her wedding band clearly, and she thought to herself what was so bad about this particular _happening_? In fact, it almost wasn't bad. It was good. Right.

A small voice in the back of her head said that it was neither good nor right, and Meredith unknowingly appealed to that voice as she appeared at their side and said, "Cristina, you ready to talk?"

Owen took in Meredith's chipper appearance and glanced down at Cristina dubiously. His wife immediately clamped onto Meredith's arm and steered her toward the locker room as she loudly said, "Alright, spill."

Meredith glanced back at Owen, who was looking oddly at them, but his face was cut off from her view as Cristina firmly shut the door. Cristina watched Owen walk away and then moved over to the bench, plopping down with a loud groan.

"What is going on here?" Meredith demanded, standing in front of her. "Are you two having problems?"

"What? Of course not!" Cristina said immediately, shaking her head. "What would make you think that?"

Meredith leaned forward and said, "Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that you needed to talk with me and that whole show you just put on for him. If you guys are having trouble you can talk to me, you know."

"There is no trouble," Cristina lamented. "I'm just pregnant."

Meredith stared at her, mouth set into a sort of grimace. Cristina noticed the pain flash in her friend's eyes and sighed. "I know this isn't easy for you with all that happened but I really need someone to talk to right now."

"What about Owen?"

"What about him?"

"Um, don't you think you should tell him? He's the father." Meredith took pause. "He..he is the father, right?"

"Of course he is," Cristina snapped.

"Sorry, sorry," Meredith relented, holding her hands up. "I just can't understand why you don't want to tell him."

"Because," Cristina spelled out, "I am Cristina Yang. I am going to be a cardiothoracic surgeon. I..I can't be a mother. I can't be tending to a kid with my hands in someone's chest."

"You know, your hands won't always be in a chest," Meredith offered.

"I don't know if I can do this," Cristina pressed. "I..I'm still dark and twisty. A kid can't have a mother who's dark and twisty."

Cristina leaned forward, squeezing her eyes shut. This was turning wrong. All of it was wrong. Getting back to the hospital was hard enough. She didn't know if she could handle any more problems.

Meredith sat next to her and laid a hand on her back. "Cristina, if anyone can do this it's you."

"I'm not maternal."

"Neither was my mother and I didn't turn out too worse for wear."

Cristina turned her head to look at Meredith and spat, "Tell me you're kidding."

Meredith smiled slightly. "What I'm trying to show you is that a lot of people who shouldn't have children do and everything turns out just fine."

"This is a nightmare," Cristina groaned. "I'm going to mess it up. You remember me on peds. I don't get kids."

"It's because they aren't your own," Meredith told her gently. "Imagine a kid of your own. Someone who is completely yours."

"Babies always cry around me," Cristina blurted out. "They-they always cry. The minute I walk in a room-bam!-crying."

"Cristina-"

"And babytalk? It turns my stomach. It actually makes me physically ill."

"Cristina!" Meredith snapped, effectively cutting off her friend's tirade. Cristina looked at her and asked, "What?"

"Are you imagining it?"

"No."

"Imagine it."

She thought it was ridiculous but followed Meredith's instructions anyway. Her mind wandered, unable to grasp any clear picture, until it settled on Owen. She imagined Owen's face when she finally told him. Owen's face when he first saw his child, first held it. She imagined the baby then with Owen's blue eyes and her ebony hair. She looked down at her belly then, gingerly laying a hand over her still flat stomach. Cristina glanced at Meredith, noticing the glassiness in her eyes. She reached over and took Meredith's hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "Thank you."

"This is a good thing, Cristina," Meredith said thickly. "It's a good thing."

GA-GA-GA-GA-GA

She waited for him outside of the hospital, sitting on their usual bench. She went over all the possible ways to tell him, a mock-up script forming in her head. She couldn't settle on the best way. She just wanted to tell him. She wanted him to know and for him to have a reaction so she could decide how she actually felt. She needed his reassurance. She needed him.

She knew the moment he left the hospital, her head turning toward the exit to find him walking toward her. His smile was somewhat tight as he offered her a wave that she did not return. He sat beside her and said, "Tell me what's going on."

With his eyes boring into hers, all scripts fell from her mind, and she murmured, "I'm pregnant."

**A/N: Did you guys like it?**

**So, I am planning on this being a series of moments from Cristina's pregnancy. A lot of Cristina/Owen fluff. Probably some angst because I can't seem to say no in that arena. Thoughts?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I wasn't planning on writing how Owen reacted to the news, but so many of you wrote in your reviews how you were looking forward to reading about it. So, I wrote it up! Hopefully it lives up to all of your expectations :)**

Pee Sticks

From the moment he laid eyes on her in that crowded hallway, he knew she was a remarkable woman. It had been something about the way she strode past the chief, ink black hair curling gently around her face. It was not until he saw her at work that he saw just how remarkable she was. Her hands were masterful. Her focus was enviable.

He found himself falling quickly to her sharp wit and poison-laced tongue. She was restless, firing on all cylinders even with an icicle impaling her stomach. He still remembered how all thinking had stopped in that moment that he saw her on the icy ground. It had been all action, then. He became Major Hunt again and she was another person to save. As he stood above her, however, and her eyes drifted open he saw how wrong he was. She was more than just another person. She was this surprising, daring creature that he found himself utterly fascinated with.

And fascination turned to attraction.

Attraction turned to love.

He had thought that this last turn was as far as they could go. They were married, after all, and they had _married_ love. They had devoted their lives to each other and he loved her with what he imagined was every bit of his being. But when she murmured that she was pregnant he found that he could, in fact, love her more. His heart felt as if it would burst from his chest, and wondered then if there could ever be a limit to how much he loved this woman.

"Did you hear me?" she asked after a moment, her brown eyes wide as she waited for some response. "I said I'm pregnant. Knocked up, Owen."

"I don't think they call it knocked up when you're married," he said absentmindedly.

She shook her head and sputtered, "That-that's all you have to say?"

"You're really pregnant?" he asked, his eyes searching hers. It almost seemed too good to be true because they had been careful and while they hadn't technically had the children talk yet, he knew she had reservations.

"Trust me," she sighed. "Trust the five pregnancy tests. Every damn one said I am pregnant."

One moment for it to sink in and then he pulled her against him, his arms holding her so tight that she could barely breath. "You're happy?" she mumbled against his neck, turning her face up to his.

"Of course I am!" he boomed, laughing at the thought of him _not_ being happy. What was there to not be happy-be ecstatic-for? He was going to have a baby with the woman that he loved. If that was not a reason to be happy, he didn't know what was.

"You're-you're not worried we'll mess it up?"

"Mess what up?"

"You know, we're not uncomplicated people and-"

He clamped a hand over her mouth and her eyes widened as he said, "Stop." His hand moved from her mouth to her cheek and he leaned forward as he murmured, "I will not let you overanalyze this, Cristina. This-this baby-is a good thing."

"You think we can do this?"

"I love you, Cristina," he murmured. "I love you and we can do this. We _will_ do this."

"But we have no idea how to raise a kid."

He smiled wryly and murmured, "So?"

She smiled softly, her vision becoming blurry as her eyes filled with tears. He leaned forward and covered her mouth with his own. Her lips were warm and moist beneath his and he snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her as close as he could.

A few interns passed, making sniggering noises as they glanced at the amorous couple. Owen pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. "You ready to head home?"

She nodded, her hand securely grasping his as they rose from the bench. They walked toward their apartment and his arm slid around her waist. After a moment he asked, "You really took five pregnancy tests?"

Cristina looked up at him and said, "I'm an overachiever."

"Did you keep them?"

She nodded, thinking of how she had methodically put all five into a ziploc bag. Her thoughts drifted to her pregnancy scare with Burke and how she had thrown away the tests immediately, even discarding the barely filled garbage can. She had wanted to erase every shred of evidence that proved it had happened. Denial was a powerful thing.

This time it hadn't even occurred to her to throw them away. Even though she hadn't talked to her person and she had no idea how Owen would react, she had kept the tests.

"I kept the pee sticks," she said out loud, smiling softly to herself. She was smiling because she knew then why she had kept them without so much as a thought. It was because it was good. It was right. Her and Owen were going to be parents and in the wake of all the nerves and worry, she allowed herself to embrace something new.

Joy.

**A/N: I tried not to make this too sappy. Did you guys like it?**

** Next chapter will jump ahead three months. It's all written so try to leave some feedback and it should be posted soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: New chapter! I've split up the last four days they spend together. This is the first two. Enjoy!**

Compromise

_Three Months_

Owen walked into the apartment, bogged down with grocery bags, and looked oddly at his wife as he used the heel of his foot to push the door closed. She was seated in front of the coffee table, stacks of books spread out with brightly colored post-it notes sticking out from the pages. The stack of the notes resided beside her hand and she tossed him an absentminded greeting as she peeled off a neon yellow one and marked another page.

"What are you doing?" he asked, walking into the kitchen and setting down all the bags.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm studying."

"For what?"

She straightened up and said, "Oh, I don't know, maybe the impending birth of our child?"

Owen grinned. "That's a lot of post-it notes you've got there."

"Well, there is a lot to mark. This is like the ultimate test, Owen. MCATs? Boards? Doesn't even compare to this. We are bringing a _person_ into the world." She became spooked by her own little speech and turned back to her books as she muttered, "I need to study." Her gaze returned to him for one moment and she added, "_You _need to study."

Eyes returned to their book.

Owen chuckled softly to himself and sat beside his information-cramming wife. "This is something you learn by trial, Cristina."

She snorted and said, "I am not going to do trial and error with our kid."

"That's how most people do it."

"Most people read the baby books. That is why they exist," she argued, pointing at the piles of baby knowledge. "And they make the books for a reason, Owen. The reason is to be read."

"Most people do not go through them with post-it notes and highlighters."

"And _that_ is why so many diaper rashes happen!" Cristina enthused, using this as evidence for why her reading of the baby books was superior. He suppressed a grin as she continued. "If people read the baby books thoroughly they would know how to avoid diaper rash."

"Watch your diet and make sure to change their diapers enough?" Owen offered.

"Exactly," she said with a succinct nod. "And don't cover the diaper with plastic pants. See, our baby is never going to get a diaper rash."

"I knew all of that without the baby book," Owen told her with a straight face.

"Doesn't count," she said immediately. "You're a doctor meaning you should have known it already."

Owen laughed and stood up from the couch. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head before saying, "I got you that ice cream you wanted."

"Oh good," Cristina said earnestly, her attention pulled from the studying at the prospect of Cherry Garcia ice cream.

Owen grabbed the pint and a spoon, and then went back into the living room, handing to her. She popped the top off happily and dug her spoon into the ice cream. She put a large spoonful into her mouth and closed her eyes almost reverently as she swallowed.

"If I could marry Ben and Jerry, I so would," she said solemnly.

"You'd have to divorce me first," Owen reminded her, settling beside her on the couch.

"That could be arranged."

He looked over at her and asked, "You'd leave me for Ben and Jerry?"

"And a lifetime supply of this," she added, pointing at the pint. "In fact, I probably would have a lifetime supply of all the flavors. Now, that would be a fruitful marriage. You won't even give me surgeries."

He laughed. "You do realize that Ben and Jerry do not actually exist, right?"

"Minute detail," she tossed off.

He shook his head and moved back into the kitchen to continue unpacking the groceries while Cristina continued her pre-birth studying, spoon in one hand, _Ben and Jerry's_ Cherry Garcia in the other.

* * *

"How is my godchild doing today?" Meredith chirped, falling into step beside Cristina.

"Your godchild had me puking all morning meaning you need to stop being so damn cheery."

"Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine."

"When am I ever a ray of sunshine?" Cristina asked pointedly.

"Good point."

"I need to cut," Cristina lamented. "I need to get my hands dirty because once this comes out it'll be over for me."

"No it won't," Meredith told her.

"Someone has to stay with the baby. Can you really picture Owen staying home?"

"No, I can't," Meredith admitted. "But you guys will work something out. It's called compromise. It's part of a marriage."

"Is it a part of your post-it note?"

Meredith smiled. "Yes, it is a part of my post-it note. A vital part, actually. Just talk with him. I'm sure he doesn't expect you to give up everything. He knows you better than that."

* * *

"Cristina," Owen said jovially, coming up to her as she read over a chart. "I have a surgery for you to scrub in for."

She looked up from the chart and asked, "How are we going to juggle work and the baby?"

She had a knack for bad timing and he rubbed the back of his neck as he proposed, "Why don't we talk about this tonight?"

"Because I can't be a boring mom," she said, her fingers curling around the chart. "Surgery is my life, Owen. And, I know this baby will become a big part of my life, too, but I can't give it up completely. I can't."

"You won't have to," he assured her. "We'll work out our schedules once the baby is here."

She sighed and flipped the chart shut. "What if I'm phased out? Thwarted by my vagina?"

He smirked. "You will not be thwarted by your vagina." He put his hands on her shoulders and told her, "You are a remarkable surgeon, Cristina, and the Chief knows that."

"And you won't make me become a boring stay at home wife?"

"_I'll_ become a boring stay at home husband," he told her with a grin, pulling her to him and brushing his lips against hers.

"You know," she murmured, turning her face up to his. "I almost feel like we can do this."

"It's because we can," he answered. "Now, would you please scrub in for your husband's surgery?"

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed the little glimpse into the pregnancy! Next chapter should be up in a day or so. Once again, it is already written. This story is like crack for me, lol.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Alright, this one is a bit short. But, it is fluffy and cute and I think you all will enjoy it! So...my Christmas gift to you: Owen/Cristina adorableness! **

Feeling

_Five Months_

Their life was hectic. They were surgeons, after all. Their time and attention was not their own, it belonged to the patients who needed them, demanded them. They were employees, slaves of the trade and they answered promptly. It was the life they had chosen and for the most part they never considered anything different. What was more exhilarating than holding a beating heart in your hand? What created a better high than watching a lung go from immobile to a steady inhale, exhale? Both felt the wonder of their job, the mysticism.

Owen had always felt the limitations, though. It was what set him apart from his wife. He had seen personal relationships chipped away by the difficult hours until there was nothing left to hold onto. He had felt the stab of a lost patient.

Cristina had never doubted the job. To her, things were only black or white. Patients were strangers. Relationships were temporary. And then she landed in that OR, operating on her best friend's husband with a gun to her head and everything changed. She would never view her profession the same way, and with those five pregnancy tests things changed even further.

"What do you think?" Owen asked softly, laying a hand on her round belly. "Boy or girl?"

They were in bed, enjoying the few moments before both had to prepare for work. She propped an arm beneath her head and said, "I don't know. One or the other."

He laughed. "Yes, that is usually how it goes. Do you have a feeling one way or the other?"

"No, I don't believe in feelings, remember?"

"Right, the resident cynic."

"I'll be happy either way," she said. "As long as the baby is healthy and has my hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing, I just think that a kid with our mix of DNA would look better with my hair. And I have really good hair."

He smiled, bringing his face to hers to kiss her. "Yes, you do."

"I hope the baby has your eyes, though," she mused, looking into his blue orbs. "You have good eyes." Her eyes drifted shut when Owen slipped his hand under her shirt. "Either way, looks won't matter for our kid because it is going to a genius."

"Oh, really?"

"He has us as parents," she explained. "Meaning he will be smart. Very smart."

He slipped his hand out from under her shirt and traced the curve of her cheek as he kissed her quickly. "I think you're right. And you were wrong about not having a feeling about the baby."

"Huh?"

"You said he, Cristina."

"So?"

He grinned. "When you were talking about the baby just then you said _he_."

"I…well…it's natural to use the male pronoun," she explained slowly. "It's like a reflex, and…" she trailed off, laying a hand lightly on her belly. Her lips curled into a grin and he covered her hand with his own. "You're right," she admitted. "I have a feeling."

"A boy?"

She nodded. "Yeah, a boy."

**A/N: I'm thinking next chapter will be the birth. Anything in between that you want me to touch on first?**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So, this chapter is NOT the birth. I attempted to combine some of your requests. One of you asked for a name talk and sadly that didn't fit in this :( But, there is some of that in the next chapter! Hope you enjoy this :)**

Party Time

The news of Cristina's pregnancy had spread relatively quickly through the hospital. Cristina had never shied away from tequila filled nights at Joe's and from the moment she ordered a club soda (and not the Richard Weber sort) they knew something was up.

Cristina fielded the subsequent questions and offered the stock answers. No, she did not know the sex of the baby. Yes, her and Owen were thrilled. Yes, she would still be a kick ass cardiothoracic surgeon. She took no pleasure in talking about the baby, figuring she would have the entire kid's life to have people fawn over it and her involvement. For now, she wanted to relish whatever time she had left as Cristina Yang- childless surgeon.

In her mums-the-word approach to the pregnancy, she had thought it implicit that she did not want a baby shower. Meredith knew she didn't want pomp and circumstance and who besides Meredith would want to throw her a baby shower? Little did Cristina know, a force of nature more powerful than her rejection of convention was at work.

And its name was Arizona Robbins.

* * *

"What do you mean she doesn't want a shower?" Arizona asked with a blank smile, laughing as she looked over at Callie. "What prospective mother doesn't want a baby shower?"

"She doesn't want one," Meredith repeated with a shrug. "And I think we should respect her wishes."

"But a baby is a joyous thing," Arizona continued, blue eyes sparkling. "A baby-well-it's a miracle! And a miracle should be celebrated!"

"Cristina is not the celebrating type," Meredith said simply.

"I've seen you guys _celebrate_ at Joe's on several occasions," Arizona argued. "And her wedding to Dr. Hunt was beautiful. _And_ celebratory. She will regret not having a shower." Arizona paused for a moment, lips dipping into a frown. "And besides, I already bought a unisex onesie for her."

"It's better not to cross Cristina," Callie warned her girlfriend. Arizona did not look convinced and Callie reminded her, "Consider the pregnancy hormones!"

Arizona shook her blonde head and announced, "This is ridiculous. We are throwing her a party. We can have it right here in the hospital, in the residents lounge! It won't be a big to-do, only the people here. It'll be perfect." She nodded succinctly and said, "I need to go check on a little human now. Don't you two worry about the shower. I have it all under control."

She walked away, leaving the two remaining women with morose looks on their faces.

"Cristina is going to hate this," Meredith said, imagining the fit her friend would throw when she found out.

Callie nodded her head in agreement and breathed out, "_Oohh_, this is bad."

* * *

"I heard grumbling in the hospital about your baby shower," Owen said offhandedly to Cristina, bringing her a plate of pasta. They had taken to eating on the couch for a change of pace and she stretched out her legs, plopping her feet on the coffee table. With all the things pregnancy robbed Cristina of, the round belly did lend her a rather convenient resting spot for a plate. She took the plate of pasta from him and propped it on her belly as she said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're not planning one, are you?"

"Are you kidding?" she said, snorting. "I'm not the baby shower type."

"Didn't think so," he said, sitting next to her.

"It probably was for someone else. I can't be the only pregnant person in the hospital."

"They said your name, though."

She shoved a forkful of pasta into her mouth and chewed happily, wiggling her toes. "I'm not too worried. Mer knows better than to spring one on me, and who else would throw me one?" She put another forkful in her mouth and mumbled, "The baby shower is not for me."

* * *

"The surgeries suck today," Cristina complained to Meredith, handing a chart to a nearby nurse and gathering her hair into a low bun. "Nothing even remotely interesting."

"What did you just come from?"

"A polyp biopsy," Cristina said. "The only good part was when one of them was a bleeder." She frowned. "The patient was stable the whole time, though."

"Bummer."

"You want to grab some lunch?" Cristina asked, feeling her stomach twist with the beginning pangs of hunger. "Surgery makes me hungry."

"Want to stop in the resident's lounge first?" Meredith asked innocently. Cristina nodded, figuring she could hold out for a bit before lunch. "Sure, why not?"

They headed toward the lounge and Cristina noticed Meredith was walking funny, her arms pressed to her sides as if she were uncomfortable. "What's wrong with you?"

"What? Nothing, nothing's wrong with me."

"You're walking strange."

"No I'm not."

"And you're doing that weird thing where you don't look at me when you talk. Mer, what-"

They stopped in front of the lounge and Meredith turned to her friend suddenly, placing her hands on Cristina's shoulders. "I had nothing to do with this."

"What? I…" Cristina trailed off when she remembered her and Owen's previous conversation. Her eyes widened and she murmured, "Oh God, please tell me there is not a baby shower in there."

"Look surprised," Meredith ordered, pulling open the door to reveal a group of doctors and nurses, Arizona smiling brilliantly at the center. Upon seeing Cristina she trilled, "Surprise!"

"You are dead," Cristina breathed out to Meredith.

"Nothing to do with this," Meredith said with a tight grin, grasping Cristina's arm as she pulled her in.

"Are you surprised?" Arizona pressed cheerfully, placing an unwanted hand on Cristina's arm.

"Nearly to death," Cristina stammered.

"I know you didn't want anything-Meredith made that clear-but who doesn't want a baby shower?" To herself, Cristina thought _me_. Ignoring Cristina's unsmiling countenance Arizona continued with, "You _must_ have wanted a baby shower so I threw this together! Don't worry-it was super simple. Just a few phone calls, a dash of confetti, and _wham!_ baby shower done!"

Arizona clapped her hands together while Cristina looked to Meredith and mumbled, "It is at times like these that I wish I could drink."

* * *

Cristina sat at the center of the room, a pile of gifts at her side and several sets of attentive eyes on her. A baby shower was a rare distraction from their work and all the doctors and nurses were taking full advantage. Cristina thought to herself that it was somewhat amusing that a number of these people who on a normal day would not even say hello to her were using her pregnancy as a way to escape work. She picked up a gift and read the name before looking up to find Karev. He was one of the few who didn't look pleased to be at the shower. Lexie had probably dragged him there, threatening to withhold sex or something. "This better not be pervy, Karev."

"It's for your kid," he snapped. "How could it be pervy?"

She opened up the box, surprised to find a nice green blanket nestled in the tissue paper. She pulled it out and mumbled, "Not bad, Karev."

"I helped him pick it out," Lexie said.

"Thank you, um, both of you."

"Oh, that's not my gift," Lexie explained quickly. "Mine is actually next to it. See, the purple wrapping paper?"

Cristina picked up an expertly wrapped gift and said, "I should have guessed."

"It looks professional," Derek remarked, slipping an arm around his wife's waist. "Why does our present not look like that?"

"Maybe because you wrapped it?" Meredith quipped.

"I guess I'm just good at crafts," Lexie said cheerily, watching Cristina open her gift. She bit her lip in excitement as Cristina pulled out a parcel of children's books. There was Paddington Bear and Disney classics. Lexie told her, "My mom and dad used to always read to me. Figure it's never to early to start."

Cristina smiled slightly, thinking of Owen reading to her growing belly. It was something that she could picture him doing. He would read children's books. She would read Gray's Anatomy.

"Thank you, Lexie," she said, giving her a genuine smile.

"How about we get a move on here?" Mark said loudly from the back. "We have surgeries to get back to, you know."

"Oh shut up," Callie said easily. "You just want her to open yours."

Cristina looked at Meredith and she said, "Why do I have a feeling I will not like whatever McSteamy gave me?"

"Maybe because it's from McSteamy?" Meredith offered, handing Cristina the present. Cristina ripped off the paper, beginning to laugh when she recognized a breast pump. She held it up and looked at Mark as she said, "Really, Sloan?"

Owen walked into the lounge at this moment, stopping short at the sight of his wife holding up a breast pump. He began to laugh and said, "Let me guess, it's from Sloan?"

"You can show her how to use that, you know," Mark told Owen suggestively. "Give her some help if she needs it."

"I think I can manage on my own," Cristina said dryly, giving Owen a small grin as he stood behind her. He put a hand comfortably on her shoulder and asked, "Enjoying your party?"

Cristina paused for a moment and then admitted, "It's turning out to not be too bad." Arizona overheard the comment and looked triumphantly to Callie.

Cristina was surprised by how much she had taken to such a trivial and conventional tradition, but surrounded by her colleagues, she felt a genuine warmness spread through her. And the breast pump was pretty funny.

"Last gift," Meredith announced, handing over the one from her and Derek. "While it says it's from me and Derek, it's mostly from me."

"It's true," Derek supplied. "I only added my name."

Cristina smiled slightly and began to open the present. It was rectangular and she slipped it out of the wrapping paper, pressing her lips together as she turned over what resembled a picture frame. Owen's hand tightened on her shoulder as they both looked down at a framed picture of her last ultrasound.

"Mer," Cristina breathed out, turning to her friend. "How-"

"I may have bribed your obgyn's nurse."

Owen's hand slipped from his wife's shoulder as she moved forward and hugged her friend. Meredith laughed lightly and said, "I thought we don't hug."

"Shut up," Cristina mumbled

"You know, if I didn't know any better I would say you are sort of enjoying all of this."

Cristina offered a fraction of a smile and retorted, "If I didn't know any better, I would say that I am, too."

* * *

Three days later and Cristina and Meredith sat in the lounge, curled over the table as they ate the last of the baby shower cake. Cristina shoveled a forkful into her mouth and mumbled, "You know, that shower wasn't a half bad idea. This cake-" she gestured to the decimated slice, "this cake made it not half bad."

Meredith nodded her agreement, chewing happily. "You should get this cake for your wedding."

"You know, I'm considering it. Sheet cake or not, it's a good cake."

"Admit it, though, you actually enjoyed the shower," Meredith said, pointing her empty fork accusingly at her friend. "You wanted to be a hater but in the end you were a believer."

"I was not a believer," Cristina argued. "Yes, it ended up not being a terrible time but I would have been fine without one."

"But you wouldn't have this cake," Meredith pointed out.

Cristina's eyes opened wide and she said, "Oh, if we're speaking purely cake, then I am totally for the shower. Like, one hundred percent."

The door opened and Karev burst in and took one look at the cake before going straight to the fridge. He pulled open the small door and groaned loudly when he found the fridge empty. He spun around and said, "Those the last two pieces?"

"You bet," Cristina said, scraping off some excess frosting.

Karev scowled and stalked out of the room, the door closing loudly behind him. Cristina and Meredith exchanged one valiant grin before returning their attention to their plates.

**A/N: I'm not totally happy with how this turned out, particularly the gift scene, but hopefully you all liked it. Next chapter is my favorite, though, so I can't wait to share it with you all! Let me know if you liked this! **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I wanted to wait to post this. Attempt to have some space between chapters, but I am way too excited about this chapter. Therefore, you all get it one night from the last :D ENJOY!**

The Birth

Cristina believed in medicine; she believed in science. But sometimes, her fellow colleagues could be complete idiots. Quacks. She wondered if they printed those medical certificates off Microsoft Word.

Bed rest.

She had never heard anything more preposterous as the suggestion that she-Cristina Yang-stay in bed and watch The View and soap operas until she was so bored she wanted to scream. Even Owen was in on this absolutely ridiculous idea. At least he had taken into account who he was dealing with and brought her some surgeries that had been recorded for educational purposes. It wasn't the real thing, though, so it did little to quell Cristina's mounting belief that being holed up in her bed was a big old waste of time.

That was why she left the house precisely fifteen minutes after Owen left for work and strode into Seattle Grace Mercy West hospital. Although the stride was a bit more akin to a waddle and many eyed her ostentatiously rotund belly, she felt right at home.

"Yang, what is wrong with you?" Miranda Bailey snapped. It always amazed Cristina how such a small woman could be so commanding. Bailey was using the tone reserved for idiotic interns and while in different circumstances Cristina would have found this offensive, at the given moment it was oddly comforting.

"I'm here for work, Dr. Bailey," Cristina said, looking over Bailey's shoulder to see the surgery board. "Who am I scrubbing in with?"

"No one," Bailey huffed. "You are supposed to be on maternity leave."

Cristina continued to study the board. "No baby, so no maternity leave."

"Last I heard you were put on bed rest," Bailey said pointedly. "Why is your bottom not in a bed, Yang?"

"Because my bottom is perfectly fine. The only thing that hurts are my ankles and they still hurt when I am in bed. Therefore, no reason for a bed. Now, do you know if there are any services that could need another set of hands?

"Does Dr. Hunt know you're here?"

"No," Cristina said offhandedly. "Why does that matter?"

"Because it is his kid you are compromising."

"I am not compromising anyone," Cristina said decidedly. "I am a doctor and I would not be here if I was endangering my child."

"I think your surgical hands are clouding your judgment," Bailey said dryly. "And you can go help Dr. Torres. I think she's resetting a broken leg in 234."

"Ortho?" Cristina asked glumly. "That's all you have?"

"Yang, it's either that or you go lay down in an on-call room."

Cristina clamped her mouth shut and gave Bailey one succinct nod before turning on her heel to join Callie. She made her way to the elevators, feeling her spirits lift slightly just at the prospect of work, but felt them dampen when her eyes met a familiar blue pair.

"Oh shit," she mumbled.

"Cristina?" Owen walked over to her quickly, his eyebrows knitted together in what was either worry or irritation. Could have been both, actually. "What are you doing here? Are you okay?"

"Of course I am," she said. "I'm just going to go help Callie reset a broken leg."

Owen didn't respond for a moment and she waited patiently, knowing that he would rail, she would refute, and then they would be on their merry way. Finally it seemed to hit him and he said, "You're doing what?"

"Look, I'm fine," she assured him. "I'm fine and the baby is fine. We're all fine."

"I don't care how _fine_ you are," he said, blue eyes wide. "You are supposed to be on bed rest. Just like there are a reason for the baby books, there is a reason for bed rest. You're not supposed to be putting any strain on your body."

"Ortho is not strain," she said, snorting when she added, "Shouldn't even be a specialty."

"Cristina-"

"Stop worrying so much."

"Well, my wife is insane. Makes it difficult."

She frowned. "I resent that."

He looked to the side, his jaw rigid with tension, and she saw that she was getting nowhere. No matter how well she coddled him, Cristina knew the only place Owen wanted her was in bed. And based on the information from her gynecologist she really could not blame him. He wasn't her, though. The doctor was not her, either, and therefore could not understand that her body was in perfect working order. Was she a bit tired? Yes, but she was a surgeon so that never stopped her. She needed work and while her body still allowed her, she would be in the hospital. She turned to the elevator and tossed over her shoulder, "I will see you after I help reset this leg."

She jumped slightly when his hand closed around her arm, effectively stopping her from getting on the elevator. She turned her head to him and he said, "No, you are coming with me."

"I'm not going home," she said fiercely. "And I'm not going to an on-call room."

"I know," he sighed. "Despite what you think, Cristina, I do know you."

She softened a bit and asked, "Fine, well, where are we going?"

"You're going to scrub into my surgery. If you're going to be here, you're going to be with me."

* * *

She stood a few feet from the table, watching her husband repair a valve on a man's heart. His hands moved deftly, suturing to the beat of some tune in his head. She had asked him before what beat he went to but all he had told her was, "Depends on the surgery."

Her ankles throbbed. She hadn't been completely honest with Bailey, before. While her ankles still hurt in bed, they hurt substantially more when she was on her feet and she shifted her weight to try to alleviate some of the pressure.

Owen glanced at her, as he did every time she made some movement. She knew he was nervous. She could tell by these small lapses in focus that were uncharacteristic in his usual practice of medicine. She was fine, though. Throbbing ankles were hardly anything to get bothered over.

"Shit," Owen murmured, "there's a tear in the heart. Quick, I need suction."

As the doctors and nurses around the table burst into action, Cristina stood back with the technicians, squeezing her eyes shut as a sharp pain ripped through her abdomen. The technician beside her noticed the pained look on Cristina's face and asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Cristina bit out. "I'm-" Moisture spread between her legs and she felt all color leave her cheeks as she realized what was happening. She balled her hands into fists, willing herself to hold on.

"Dr-"

"Shush," Cristina hissed. "Not a word about this. Not a word until this patient is stable."

She would not compromise this man's life because of her own stupidity. She had been stubborn, unable to take other's advice. Now she was paying the ultimate price as she stood with her legs clamped together, willing her labor to take its time.

"Good," she heard Owen say, glancing at her over the heads of the interns. She could tell from the way his eyes flashed that he knew something was wrong. She kept her face impassive. "Shiela," Owen said, addressing the technician beside Cristina. "How is my wife?"

Cristina held her breath. "She is fine, Dr. Hunt."

Owen glanced at Cristina once more before returning his attention to the patient. He was stable now and Cristina held onto this small piece of information because it meant that the surgery could feasibly be completed soon. Not much longer, she thought. Not much longer. Not much longer.

She didn't know how long she stood in that O.R., her thighs pressed together tightly. It could have been two minutes, or two hours. Just as time seemed to not exist when she was actively in a procedure, time did not exist as she regulated her breathing, trying to control her facial expressions as pain ripped through her midsection. She counted silently to herself, measuring time between contractions.

The patient was stabilized and the nurses took him from the O.R. Owen did not bother to scrub out before going straight to his wife and asking, "How long?"

She looked up at him. "What?"

"How long between contractions?"

"I…"

"Come on," he said hastily, slipping an arm around her waist. "You can't be standing any longer."

"How did you know?" she asked, exhaling sharply with the next contraction. "The technician said-"  
"I know you Cristina," he said. "And I also know the look of fear in other's eyes when you threaten them."

She laughed slightly, the bark of a laugh turning into a groan with another contraction. "I'm sorry," she managed through the pain. "I was stupid coming here."

He kissed the side of her head. "You were just a bit early to the hospital, that's all."

They stumbled out of the OR and ran right into Miranda Bailey. She took one look at Cristina and said, "Come on, time to get you a bed and a room."

* * *

Cristina lauded herself for being made of some pretty tough stock. She could handle losing her father at a young age, holding his beating heart in her hand. She could handle the rigors of medical school and the sleepless nights that came with the lay of the land. All of that, she handled with aplomb.

Labor, not so much.

"It hurts," she groaned, holding onto Owen's hand tightly as another contraction made her rob Owen's hand of feeling. "Why does birth hurt so fucking much?_"_

"The nurse will be here with the epidural soon," Owen told her, lifting their interlaced hands to his mouth and kissing her hand. "She'll be here soon."

"This baby was supposed to be out soon, too, and it's taking its sweet time. And I don't trust nurses."

He chuckled. "Have I said that I loved you?"

"Not nearly enough times to make up for doing this to me," Cristina glowered.

"You want ice chips?"

"No," she said sourly, hand squeezing his to the point of tingling again, "I don't want ice chips. I don't want anything except for this baby to not be inside of me. Because it hurts."

"Hello, Dr. Hunt," the nurse said cheerily, walking in. She glanced at Cristina and hesitated for a moment before Cristina said, "Dr. Yang, I kept my maiden name."

"Oh, wonderful! Dr. Yang, how about you lean forward and I will make some of this pain go away, okay?"

Cristina leaned forward, barely glancing at the large needle. She held onto Owen's hand, sucking in air as the needle slid into her back. It was over quickly and the nurse helped her settle back into the pillow.

"You're all set," she told Cristina. "I'll be back in a bit to check the contractions. Anything I can get you in the meantime?"

"No," Cristina said, shaking her head.

The nurse nodded succinctly and left. Owen touched Cristina's cheek and asked, "Getting better?"

As Cristina slowly lost feeling from the waist down she nodded, "Yes, the pain is dulling."

"Good, that's good."

"Yang," someone said from the doorway, voice cutting through the heavy haze of labor. She looked up at the door, and sighed grandiosely as she muttered, "Really? Evil Spawn?"

"I heard you were popping it out," Karev said. He looked over at Owen and said, "Congrats man."

"Thank you, Karev."

"I hate men," Cristina swore. "You and your penises. You just whip them around, not thinking about the repercussions."

Karev shook his head. "Still don't know how you married her."

"Because he loves me, ass," Cristina spat. "And I'm awesome."

"Thanks for checking in," Owen told Karev, "but I think it'd be best if it was just Cristina and I right now. She doesn't seem to have control over her tongue."

"Nah, she always talks to me this way," Karev said with a shrug. "Well, good luck with all of that."

Owen chuckled, "Thanks, Karev."

He turned back to Cristina and smiled softly before leaning forward and kissing her. She turned her head, setting him with a hard look as she said, "No, that's what got us here. No more of that."

"You should try being nicer," Owen said with an indulgent grin. "To Karev."

"Um, have you met me?"

He smiled. "Alright, point made."

"And he probably just wanted to see if he could get a shot of the goods."

"I highly doubt that."

"Well, I highly doubt that I am wrong."

The door opened again and Meredith bound in, staking claim on Cristina's other side. She seemed to have nearly as much glow as Cristina and enthused, "It's almost time!"

"God, I hope so."

"I saw Karev down this way. Did he actually stop to say hello?"

"Briefly," Owen told her, knowing his wife would have a more colorful way of expressing her views on the doctor.

"That's nice," Meredith said with a serene grin. Her eyes flashed and she devilishly added, "Or he was trying to see the goods."

"Ha, one point for me," Cristina said, poking Owen's hand.

"We're keeping points?"

"We are now," she announced. "And I'm winning."

"Derek will be coming soon," Meredith told them both. "He wanted to say hello, see how things are going. He's just finishing a surgery."

"Well, with the rate this is going McDreamy can take his time," Cristina said.

"McDreamy is here," Derek announced from the doorway. He walked over to Owen and shook his friend's hand before turning to Cristina and saying, "You look wonderful, Cristina. You are positively glowing."

"Too much togetherness," she lamented. "But thank you."

As if having Derek and Meredith there was not enough, Lexie bound into the room, clapping her hands together excitedly as she enthused, "So it _is_ true!"

"Oh God," Cristina grumbled.

"Oh, this is so exciting! You're going to have a baby!" She dropped her chin onto her clasped hands and cooed, "A baby."

Lexie was prone to crying over joyous news and when Cristina detected a slight sniff she said, "No, no crying. If you cry you leave."

"Who's so popular in here?" Sloan drawled, peaking his head in and nodding to Owen. "Yang, look at this turnout. Who would've thought you could draw such a crowd."

"Mark," Lexie snapped, hitting his arm. "Be nice, she's having a _baby_."

"Yes, antagonize her more," Cristina told Sloan. "Just don't let her cry over my baby."

His eyes widened. "Is something wrong?"

"No, she is just happy about the joyous occasion," Owen spelled out, noticing a slight shine to Lexi's gaze. He turned his head toward her and said, "And it _is _a joyous occasion, Lexie. Thank you for being so happy for us."

She smiled wide, one tear dripping down her cheek. Cristina turned her head away, looking at a grinning Meredith. Her friend took her hand and said, "We're just all so happy for you, Cristina. You're the first one of us to have a baby." Cristina squeezed Meredith's hand in recognition of what her friend had lost. "This baby means something to us, too. It shows that life goes on. It's hope."

"The baby in my uterus is hope," Cristina repeated. "Tall order, huh?"

"What are you all doing in here?" Bailey asked from the doorway, planting her hands on her supple waistline. "Now, I know you're not crowding a _very_ pregnant woman. You're not, right?"

The implication was clear and Sloan said, "Well, I have a face lift to perform. Lexie, scrub in."

The two headed out and Meredith followed, saying, "I'd better check on some patients." She looked back at Cristina and gave her a grin before leaving. Derek stayed by the doorway, Bailey staring him down.

"Dr. Sheperd?" she asked pointedly.

"You're good at that," he noted. "Making people move."

"Clearly not good enough," she huffed.

He smiled and said, "Now that is not true. I was just on my way out. I have another surgery to prep for." As the two left, Derek could be heard remarking, "Really, Bailey, it's an impressive skill. Very impressive."

Cristina closed her eyes, enjoying the newfound silence. There was enough chaos going on inside of her without chaos being around her, as well. She opened her eyes again and asked Owen, "You're not missing surgeries, are you?"

"I rescheduled them."

"Not anything pressing, though, right?"

He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. "Nothing is more pressing than this, Cristina." She smiled softly, trying to figure out once again how she had found herself someone as wonderful as Owen. She could often be a bitter pill to take, but he did it without complaint. He came back for seconds, even. "Hey," he said suddenly, "Did I hear you tell Meredith you have hope in your uterus?"

* * *

All the waiting and it was time. It was time to push. Time to swear. Time to rail. Cristina did all of this, making the nurses blush with the slew of curse words that left her mouth.

"Owen!" she cried out, squeezing his hands. "Why isn't it coming out? Make it come out!"

"Keep going, baby," he said, mopping the dampness from her forehead. "Keep going, Cristina. You're doing great."

The pain was all consuming, and she pushed hard. Her mouth dropped open into a very vocal scream as she was told, yet again, to give another push. That was all she was told. Another push. You're doing great. Another push. If she were doing so damn well, the kid would be out already.

Knees open, sweat dripping down her face, she thought again that men had it _so_ easy. All they did was pop the thing in and then the women were expected to pop the resulting eight pound person out. Now, how the hell was that fair? Owen moved his face in front of hers as he talked her through the labor and she thought to herself that at least her man was pretty.

"Another big push," the doctor said from between her legs. "His head is almost out."

She used every bit of strength in her and pushed. She felt the baby come out, felt the onslaught of afterbirth, but didn't hear crying. There was no crying. The baby should be crying. Babies cry when they leave the womb and yet Cristina's was completely silent and she repeated over and over, "Why isn't he crying? Why-"

She watched the doctor take her baby over to the side, a team of nurses blocking her view. She knew something was wrong.

"The umbilical cord wrapped itself around your baby's neck," the nurse said, using the same professional voice that Cristina had used countless times.

Owen moved immediately, going over to the table frantically as the doctor looked up from their baby and said, "Go back to your wife, Dr. Hunt."

"I can help. I need-"

"Owen," he said more firmly. "Go back with Cristina."

Owen's jaw clenched painfully but he saw his colleague was right. He went back to Cristina, dropping his head to hers as he murmured, "He'll be okay."

"Our baby-our-we don't have a name."

"What?"

"We don't have a name. What if he di-"

"No," Owen said firmly. "No."

"We need a name," she pressed frantically. "We need a name, Owen."

He pushed her hair away from her face, trying to not hear the beeps and screams of the monitors behind them. "Sam," he said. "After you father."

"Sam," Cristina repeated, tears slipping down her cheeks as she felt the perfection of the name. She turned her head toward the table her baby was on, willing him to cry. He had a name now, after all. He had a name and he was _their_ child and she wanted nothing more than to hear her son's voice. She _needed_ to hear it.

"He's not crying," Cristina said, desperately trying to see more of her son, but Owen kept her down. "Owen, he-"

"I know," Owen said, his voice breaking. "We just-we need to let them do their job. We-"

"No, I can't. I-" she sat up suddenly, somehow fielding Owen's attempts to keep her down. He caught her before she hopped off the table, wrapping his arms around her. She fought against them while he drew her to his chest and murmured, "It won't help, Cristina."

She turned suddenly, her face buried into his chest as she sobbed. She had finally embraced being a mother, having a family, and now it could be taken from her. Her son could be killed by the very thing that had nurtured him within her body.

Cristina didn't believe in God. She didn't believe in prayer or in miracles, but in that moment she had nothing else to turn to. As the doctors and nurses' efforts seemed to come to nothing, she saw that science had failed her. Medicine had failed her. "Please," she said softly, speaking to no one in the room. "Don't take him from me." She squeezed her eyes shut, the silent moments furthering her belief that she had only spoken to empty air. But then, there was a noise. It was soft at first, more of a mewing, and then Cristina heard the most beautiful sound. Her son was crying.

She turned around, gripping Owen's arm tightly as Sam's cries played like music to her ears. Her heart felt like it would beat out of her chest when she heard the doctor say, "He's stable."

"He's okay," Cristina breathed out, unable to stop crying. "He-he's okay. Owen-" she stopped at the sight of her husband's tears and tugged his face down to hers to kiss him softly.

* * *

Alone in her room, with Sam in her arms, Cristina found it hard to envision life without this little bundle. It had been a matter of hours and this little human (as Arizona would call him) had wound himself around her heart so completely that she couldn't imagine one without the other.

Owen had gone to the cafeteria to get Cristina tea and stopped at the door, watching a quiet moment between his wife and his son. He watched her fidget with the blanket around Sam, rocking him gently.

His family.

He opened the door and walked in, careful not to spill her drink. Cristina looked up at him with tired eyes and smiled softly. He went to speak but she shook her head, inclining her head down to what he saw was their sleeping son. He nodded and sat down on the seat by the bed, placing the tea on the end table.

He took stock of his life, then, sitting beside his wife and son. He had come a long way from the PTSD suffering army doctor who could barely keep it together. And he knew it was thanks to this woman that he got so far. It was her love. Her patience.

It was because of her that he was able to enjoy something so normal. All he could remember was an abnormal life. It had been a mess of army bases and bombing raids. Now, he was sitting with his wife and their newborn son. It was like a scene straight out of a Normal Rockwell drawing.

He wanted to tell her all of this, but in respect of his son's slumber, he instead took her free hand and gently squeezed it three times. He didn't know if she would understand-but Cristina always understood. She understood even when he didn't, and in this instance she picked up without hesitation and gently squeezed back. Putting words to the gesture, she mouthed, "I love you."

**A/N: And Cristina and Owen have a son! I just need to say now that I don't actually know if Sam is Cristina's father's name. But, in this story it is. lol **

** Did you like it?**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Well, this took me ages to complete. Luckily, I have the next chapter all written so you will not have to wait long for it. Hope you enjoy this!**

The Mommy-Daddy Debate

They had a sort of competition. It revolved around their son and the forthcoming first words that both waited somewhat impatiently for. They were impatient not for Sam to keep up with mandated developmental guidelines-he was developing just fine-they were concerned only with what these first words will be.

"Mama," Cristina said confidently. "Those first spoken words will be about me."

"You don't know that," Owen said, bouncing the baby on his knee. He dropped a kiss onto the child's head as he gurgled a small laugh. "Right, buddy? You are going to say _daddy_ first. Right? Daddy. _Daddy_."

Cristina frowned and held out her hands. "Hand him over."

"What?"

"You are attempting to sway him, Owen. That is not fair."

Owen chuckled, keeping his hold on the baby. "He's six months old, Cristina. I doubt I am capable of swaying him."

"Don't try to settle me into a false sense of comfort. I know you're some sort of baby whisperer. Don't forget you were the first one to make him eat those mashed peas."

"I have a confession to make," Owen said. "I never actually fed him those. I just opened up a different jar."

"Really?"

"Some people just don't like peas. _I_ don't like peas."

"Something you have in common," Cristina intoned. "See, you're already bonding your way to his first word."

"You're paranoid."

"I want a fair competition," she clarified. "Now, hand him over."

He didn't know if he should find her fierce competition over Sam's first words endearing, but it didn't stop him from feeling that way. He had wondered if motherhood would soften her, and he had to admit he was happy to see that it hadn't. Not in most cases, that is. He saw a softer side when she was with Sam but in most way things hadn't changed. Same bottomless drive. Same dry sense of humor. Same Cristina.

He passed Sam over to her, watching the way her lips curled into a smile as she began talking to their son. He laughed as she said, "Your father is being a bad influence by attempting to sway your affections. But I will not let him."

"You cannot sway an infant's affections," he argued lightly.

"Oh please, a baby's affections is determined by who has the exciting keys or stuffed animal."

Owen grinned and picked his keys up from the table, dangling them in front of Sam who laughed in excitement. Cristina scowled and instructed him, "Put them down, Owen."

Returning them to the table, Owen quipped, "Yes, Mother."

Cristina smiled a bit and dropped her mouth to Sam's ear as she murmured, "See, Sam, your dad listens to me. He listens to your _mama_. Yes? He listens to _Mama_!"

Owen's eyes widened and he laughed out loud before exclaiming, "You are doing the same exact thing!"

Sam wrapped one hand around Cristina's thumb as she answered, "I am most certainly not."

"We need to call a truce on this competition," Owen said with mock seriousness. "Just let the kid say what he wants."

"He wants to say _Mama_. He came out of me. He is the fruit of my loins, my womb."

"I played a role too, you know."

"Yes, but you felt from the waist down for all of it."

As his mother and father playfully bickered, Sam gazed up at them, glancing from one parent to another. Black hair to red hair.

"You just want a truce because you know you can't win," Cristina said.

"Not true."

"No?"

Softly, the warm baby on her knee mumbled, "_No_."

Both parents were silent until Cristina finally stammered, "Did-did he just do what I think he did?"

Owen grinned. Yup, his son uttered his first word. And the first word was-

"His first word was _no_?" Cristina said in disbelief.

Owen laughed, leaning forward to press a kiss to Sam's head. When he looked up at Cristina he said, "First word is _no_? He really is your son."

**A/N: Aahh, I sort of adore them as parents. They are just so much fun to write! Hope you enjoyed it- let me know!**

** Shameless Promotion Time- I wrote a New Years C/O fic that I think you all would like. It's called "Meet Me At Midnight" and is set during Season 5. Check it out!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: So, I wrote this right after Christmas but didn't have the story far enough to use it until now! This is a big ol' ball of fluff, but I think you will all enjoy it :D**

Suitin' Up

It was Sam's first Christmas and one of the many parenting tiffs surfaced when Owen told Cristina he wanted their son to take pictures with the local mall's Santa. Cristina was flipping through the Physician's Journal and snorted, not bothering to look up as she said, "That's a joke, right?"

"No, it's not."

She looked up and waited for the punch line, the laugh. Because her smart, logical husband could not really be suggesting they go sit their eight month old child on a stranger's lap. Several moments of silence and still no luck. "I did it every year when I was a kid," Owen said.

"Did what?'

"Sat on Santa's lap."

"No, you sat on some strange man's lap who happened to be wearing a Santa suit," Cristina corrected, propping her elbow on the table and resting her head on her hand. "And that thing you felt under you was not a roll of Necco wafers."

"Very funny Cristina," he said dryly.

"I don't want our kid on some stranger's lap," Cristina said firmly. "Mama and Papa Rubenstein were paranoid parents. Hence your wonderful wife."

"Think how nice the pictures would be," Owen said, trying to think of the best angle to use on his wife. "We could send them to your mother. I bet she would love them."

"The only way you are getting those pictures is if you dress Derek or Karev in a santa suit. Otherwise, tough luck."

* * *

When Cristina had quipped that the only way her son was taking a picture with Santa was if Derek or Karev was wearing the infamous suit, she had been joking. It had been one of her dry comments, not meant to be taken seriously. Instead, Owen had taken the comment and ran.

Cristina sat in the living room, Sam on her knee as they watched a Wiggles video. She thought the videos were idiotic; but her son was oddly entranced by the men dressed in primary colors. She looked to the door when she heard it open and stared for a moment, not believing her eyes.

Why was Karev in her apartment? More importantly, why was he wearing a Santa suit? She recalled her earlier conversation with Owen and frowned. Dropping her mouth to her son's ear she murmured, "Mommy is very sorry for what is about to happen to you, Sam." She looked up at Owen and said, "Alright, let's get this over with."

"You're not arguing?" Owen asked, surprised.

"I stay true to my word and I told you if you got Karev to dress up as Santa, Sam could take pictures with him." She rose from the couch, propping Sam on her hip as she walked into the kitchen to retrieve the camera.

"I cant' believe I'm doing this," Karev complained.

"Why exactly are you?" Cristina asked, handing Owen the camera. She looked at Owen and said, "Let me guess, Derek was busy?"

"And I apparently wasn't," Karev said glumly. "It was this or being shoved off services for a week." A bit of the beard got caught in his mouth and he spit angrily, tugging at the beard as he snapped, "Alright, let's get this over with. This suit is flipping hot."

"Sit down," Owen directed, pointing to the seat beside the Christmas tree. Cristina watched Karev sit down, remembering how her and Owen had fought for a good week over that stupid tree. He had won out and as she walked over to Karev and handed over her child, she thought that Owen was winning an awful lot lately.

"We'll just take a few," Owen said, adjusting the camera setting. "We can put this on the Christmas cards."

"Excuse me?" Cristina said, turning to him with her hands on her hips. "Christmas cards? And who is sending those?"

"Cristina, could you get our son to look at the camera?" Owen asked, ignoring her question. She frowned and turned toward Karev and Sam, unable to stop herself from smiling slightly when she saw Sam's pudgy hands pulling at Karev's fake beard.

"Hey kid, no touching," Karev said, trying to tug the beard away. "What are you? Hey-" he looked up at Owen and Cristina, "make your kid behave!"

"Sam," Cristina called out, "hands to yourself."

"Oh right, because that will work," Karev sniped, but his remark was proven invalid as the small child dropped his hand.

"Alright, Sam, look at the camera," Cristina said, her voice dangerously close to a coo. "Look at the camera bud," Owen added.

Despite their best efforts, their son was having none of it. He became entranced by Karev's fake beard again, pulling and tugging. Karev was as fussy as Sam, complaining, "Have you got a good one yet?"

Miraculously, despite the two boys misbehaving (one acting his age, another not) Owen managed to get one good picture. Karev's smile was a bit wonky but Sam was looking directly at the camera, smiling wide.

"Alright," Owen said, turning off the camera. "You're done, Karev."

"Thank God," Karev sighed, getting up from the chair. As he carried Sam back to Cristina the baby reached forward, taking a hold of his nose. He laughed despite his general irritation, twisting his face away from the little kid's grasp.

"The kid has your annoying persistence," Karev noted wryly, handing Sam over to his mother. Cristina took Sam and kissed his cheek before saying, "You bet he does."

"Thanks for suitin' up, Karev," Owen said with an easy grin. "You're on my service tomorrow. I have an open heart surgery scheduled."

"It better be a good one," he bit out.

Karev grabbed his bag, tossing it over his shoulder much like St. Nick as he trudged out of their apartment. Cristina chuckled, plopping back onto the couch as she said, "I can't believe you went through with that."

"The picture is perfect, Cristina. Look at it." He sat next to her, showing her the picture on the camera. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't adorable. That their son did not look like the cutest baby she had laid eyes on, but she couldn't lie. It was a good picture.

"Did you really blackmail him into it?" Cristina asked after a second.

Owen nodded. "Figured it would be easier than trying to convince Derek."

"You know, that was pretty genius."

He grinned and gave her a quick kiss. "Your husband is resourceful, remember?"

**A/N: Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hello! This one took me a bit. Luckily I also have the next chapter written so posting should go a bit more smoothly. Btw- those who watched the episode this week. Where the hell were C/O moments? Except for that one at the end-zero :(**

Those People

The hospital was moving at a snail's pace, the pit experiencing minimum turnover and the surgeries slow. For once, Cristina appreciated the pace. Sam had finally started sleeping through the night but for the past few days he had suddenly decided to pretend he hadn't. Night after night, she was woken up by his cries. Her and Owen took turns checking in on him, but even when Owen took him she couldn't fall back asleep.

She made her way into the resident's lounge and found Meredith hunched over a magazine, steaming cup of coffee beside her hand. Meredith looked up at the door opening and her face was drawn.

"You look like crap," Cristina said, sitting opposite her.

"I am exhausted," Meredith sighed, closing her magazine. "At least it's slow today."

"You know," Cristina said slowly. "I'm the new mother. _I'm_ supposed to be the exhausted one."

"I'm ovulating," Meredith explained. "And since Derek and I are trying to get pregnant, well, we've been trying every chance we get."

"Uh huh."

"And I mean _every_ chance. I'm sore in ways I didn't know I could be sore."

Cristina scrunched her nose and said, "Mer, I get that I'm your person but please never tell me anything like that again."

"Sorry," Meredith said offhandedly, taking a long sip of her coffee. "So, how is little Sam doing?"

"Suddenly deciding not to sleep through the night," Cristina answered. "Which is just awesome, of course."

"That sounds just about as bad as my constant sex."

Cristina gave her a look and said, "I would give anything for constant sex. Anytime Owen and I even attempt it once, Sam starts to cry. It's like he senses it or something." She propped her elbow on the table and rested her head on her hand. "We've become boring."

"No you haven't," Meredith assured her. "You're Cristina Yang and Owen Hunt, Mr. and Mrs. Badass. There is no way that you are boring."

"We've eaten Hamburger Helper for dinner every night for the past week. I'm surprised he hasn't divorced me over it, yet."

"Hey-I have an idea."

"Does it involve hiring a personal chef?" Cristina asked. "Because I would really just settle for someone to do the dishes."

"Let Derek and I take Sam tonight."

"And?"

"And you two can have a night out," Meredith suggested. "You've been complaining about how you never have time alone with Owen, anymore. This is the perfect opportunity!"

Cristina smirked and said, "You just want to play with my kid all night."

Meredith shrugged. "What can I say? His utter fascination with a moving fan is amusing."

"You guys really wouldn't mind?"

"Nope," Meredith chirped. "And _I _will be able to successfully shun my husband's advances from roughly 7-10. I am a happy camper."

"That is a viable sex window?"

Meredith frowned and said, "_Any_ time is a viable sex window."

* * *

Cristina caught Owen before he headed into surgery and happily told him, "You are taking me out for dinner tonight."

He looked down at her with lips curled in amusement and said, "I am?"

"Yep, Mer and Derek are taking Sam for the night, therefore, there is no reason why we can't have a night out."

"Meredith and Derek are taking Sam?"

Cristina nodded. "Mer offered, I accepted. Now, where are you taking me tonight?"

"Do they know how to take care of a baby?"

"Owen, they're not incompetent."

"But they're not parents."

Cristina waved off his question with a flick of her hand and said, "I've seen Mer with Sam a bunch of times. She can handle it. And Derek has the hair that always distracts him. It'll be fine."

He hesitated for a moment but then admitted, "It would be nice to have a night to ourselves."

"Exactly," Cristina said brightly. "So, you think of a restaurant. I will find a snazzy dress. And if you play your cards right, we might just end this night naked."

Finding immense satisfaction in the look that then flashed on Owen's face , Cristina turned on her heel and headed toward her patient's room.

* * *

"Okay, so formula is in the fridge," Cristina instructed, walking around the kitchen as she pointed at the various locations of food. "Mashed carrots and peas are in the cupboard. He usually spits up the peas but if you do the airplane, sometimes he will eat them."

"The air plane?" Meredith asked with a grin. Cristina nodded and said, "Yeah, you know-" She pretended to hold a spoon and moved her hand in a zipping motion in front of her. "Airplane-get it?"

Meredith chuckled. "Yeah, I just wanted to see you do it."

"Ha-ha, very funny. Try to pay attention so that my kid doesn't starve."

"I know where you keep your food," Meredith told her with an indulgent grin. "I have babysat Sam before, you know."

"Have him in bed by eight," Cristina said. "We shouldn't be out much later than ten."  
"Alrighty," Meredith said, nodding succinctly. She watched Cristina buzz around the kitchen a bit more and studied her outfit. Casually she asked, "Is that a new dress?"

"No," Cristian said offhandedly, scribbling something down on a piece of paper. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason."

"Okay, now I know something is up," Cristina said, looking up from the paper. "What is it? Do you not like it or something?"

"You look nice," Meredith said, her lips curling into a devious grin. She glanced obviously at Cristina's bit of cleavage and asked, "Hoping to get lucky in a bathroom stall tonight?"

"Oh shut up," Cristina clipped.

Owen walked into the kitchen, Sam in his arms, and asked, "You almost ready, Cristina?"

"Yeah, I am just writing out a few numbers for Mer and Derek." She pushed the sheet toward Meredith and explained, "Both our cell numbers and the number of the restaurant, call if you need anything."

"We'll be fine," Derek said. "You two have fun."

"No kidnapping our baby," Cristina joked lightly, walking over to Owen and kissing Sam's cheek. "If they try anything, Sam, just scream _really_ loud."

"I'm assuming Cristina walked you through everything," Owen said, handing Sam over to Meredith who basically ignored him as she cooed at the child. "I will take that as a yes," Owen said, smiling at Cristina. "Alright, we will be back before ten."

"Before ten," Cristina repeated, shaking her head as they walked out. "We really have become boring."

* * *

"I don't remember that dress," Owen said, gazing at his wife across the table. He let his eyes rove over the dress's silhouette and her cheeks flushed. Curling her fingers around the stem of the wine glass she said, "I've had it for a while."

"It's nice," he said. "I appreciate the view."

His eyes dipped obviously to her cleavage and she snorted, taking a sip of wine. "Look at us, like horny teenagers."

"What?"

"Yes Owen," she said slowly, leaning forward. "That is cleavage you are staring at."

He chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Okay, you're right." She nudged his leg with the tip of her shoe gently under the table and told him, "It's okay, I don't mind. I like being checked out by my husband."

"Well good. I suppose that should make me feel good."

She grinned. "Damn right it should."

They were both silent for a moment and Cristina gingerly said, "They're okay, right? We shouldn't call?"

"No," Owen said, shaking his head. "They're fine. You're the one who told me that this afternoon, remember?"

She nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. He watched her and smiled softly, shaking his head. While he had looked forward to spending a night with just his wife, he found her worrying too endearing to ignore, despite him knowing Sam was perfectly fine. When he had slipped in the bathroom ten or so minutes earlier, he called the house to check up on Sam. He was fine, predictably preoccupied with Derek's hair and spitting up peas on Meredith.

"Call," he said with an indulgent grin. Cristina's face relaxed as she grabbed her phone off the table and dialed. He listened to the one sided conversation, watching Cristina nod her head and ask the usual questions. He sat up a bit straighter when she said, "Oh, he did? Really?"

She shot him a look and he feigned innocence, giving a noncommittal shrug. She hung up the phone and set it back on the table. Immediately she asked, "Why didn't you tell me you called like ten minutes ago?"

"You didn't ask." She scrunched her nose in annoyance. "And would you have taken my word for it?"

She had to admit he had a point. "Fine," she conceded. "Where did you make the call, anyway?"

"The bathroom."

Her lips pulled into a slow grin as she said, "You checked up on our son in a bathroom. Why does that not surprise me?" Her smile dimmed as she said, "And I just checked up on him here at the table."

"And?"

"We've become those people, Owen. Those people who aren't able to be away from their children."

Owen shrugged and said, "Is that such a bad thing?"

"From the moment I've gotten here, he's all I've been able to think about. I've been thinking about whether or not Meredith will let the formula come to room temperature or if they will know to put his bear on his left side when he sleeps." Owen reached across the table and covered her hand with his own. "I'm supposed to be here with my husband, but I can't shut my brain off."

He smirked and told her, "I knew that about you a long time ago, Cristina."

She laughed, curling her fingers around his. That was the thing about Owen, he understood her. There was never some character trait that she could bring to the surface that he had not already recognized and accepted. It had been terrifying at first to have someone who could see her, read her so well. In the end, it was the most rewarding.

"We're those people," Owen conceded, squeezing her hand. "But I think that's pretty awesome. I never thought I would get this far, Cristina. I never imagined myself getting to the point of a family. Becoming settled. But now, because of you, I have. And I think it's pretty great that I snuck a call in the bathroom and you just did one at the table. It's what people with families do. It's what _parents_ do."

She smiled softly and said, "So, we're those people?"

Her smile was contagious and it captured him as he nodded and said, "Yeah, we are."

**A/N: Cue to _aaww_. Yes, this was cheesy. And I loved every dairy-filled line :D**

** So...I have a little preview for next chapter. Seattle Grace gets a visit from one of the foremost cardiothoracic surgeons. Any guesses as to who it is? **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: The return of a certain cardio-God. duhh duhh ddduuuuhhhhhh **

** I'll just warn you- this is a _realistic_ take on what would happen. So..no cafeteria brawls. At least for this one ;)**

Surprise, Surprise

"Cristina."

It was a male voice. One she hadn't heard in years, yet still had the power to make her lightheaded. She turned around, breathing becoming difficult when his eyes met hers. She allowed herself one moment to simply look at him. He was always a handsome man, and the few years had only served to sharpen his looks. He was smiling at her in an all to familiar way and it took every bit of control for her to calmly say, "Dr. Burke, what are you doing here?"

"Chief Weber called me in for a case," he explained. "I'm only in for a few days."

"Oh, that-"

"We should grab a drink." Again with the smile and she kicked herself for letting the memories return. There were such fond memories of that smile. It had been with her at some of her happiest moments. A voice, oddly reminiscent of Izzie Steven's, reminded her that the man had been with her at some of her worst.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," she told him.

"Why not? Old colleagues are allowed to have a drink, aren't they?" He was always a smooth talker and his silky words nearly convinced her that what he was saying was true. Fortunately, the ultimate defense against all things Preston Burke happened to come around the corner, all skeptical eyes and red hair.

He sized up the two of them, noting Burke's easy countenance and Cristina's rigid back. Deftly he took his spot beside his wife and addressed her solely as he said, "I've got a surgery for you."

"Is it anything good?" Cristina asked. Before them, Burke chuckled.

"Same Cristina," Burke noted with a grin. Clearly not picking up on the relationship between the two before him, his eyes roved over the petite brunette's form. "After all this time, same stubborn Cristina."

"Owen," Cristina said carefully. "Have you met Dr. Preston Burke?"

She watched her husband's jaw clench as he recognized the name. His hand curled around the chart tightly, knuckles white. Always the gentleman, though, he extended his other hand toward Burke and said, "Dr. Owen Hunt, nice to meet you."

Burke nodded, giving Owen's hand a quick shake. His gaze returned to Cristina as he said, "Well, I better be off. I'm sure Dr. Weber is looking for me. Cristina, I'll talk to you later about that drink."

Her eyes widened as she stammered, "I…"

He walked off before she could stutter some sort of refutation, Owen looking after Burke's retreating form with narrowed eyes. He glanced back down at his wife and asked, "You two are getting a drink?"

"No," she said immediately. "I-I told him no. But, he doesn't take no for an answer well. He's very take charge." She saw the amusement in his eyes at her rambling and closed it off with, "I'm not going."

"You can if you want, you know. I trust you." His eyes darkened as he added, "The guys seems like a prick, though."

"I don't want to," she said firmly. "He walked out of my life when he left me at that altar and I want to keep it that way."

"Okay," Owen said, kissing her softly. "You want to go do that surgery now?"

She nodded, smiling softly. "Now, that is something I would like to do."

* * *

Meredith descended on Cristina, hand grabbing onto her arm as she asked, "How are you handling it?"

"Handling what?"

Meredith's eyes widened and she said, "You don't know."

"This one sided conversation thing," Cristina spelled out, gesturing between them. "It's kind of irritating."

Meredith pulled Cristina to the side, opening the door to their much-used supply closet, and pushed her in, closing the door behind them. Turning back to Cristina she told her, "I don't want to make a big deal out of it-" Cristina raised her eyebrows at this, considering Meredith had sequestered them in a closet-"but Burke is here."

"Oh, that?" Cristina said easily. "Already ran into him. Already turned him down for a drink."

"He asked you out?"

"No, he asked me out for a drink." Although, she had to admit the intention had been there, even if not overtly stated.

"Are you really okay with it all?" Meredith asked gingerly, eyeing her friend warily as she tried to detect any hidden struggle. "I mean, it's _Burke_."

"I can't say I wasn't surprised," Cristina admitted. "And a bit shell-shocked, but I'm really fine. He's only here for a few days and then everything will go back to normal." She paused. "In fact, everything _is_ normal."

Meredith nodded, eyes going blank as she thought through another twist of the Burke-returning-saga. "Think Owen's met him yet?"

"Yeah, I introduced them."

"You what? How did he handle it?" Meredith demanded, eyes hungry for gossip. "Did they play nice?"

"Burke was a bit too smooth for his own good," Cristina admitted with a shrug. "But Owen was fine. He's not the jealous type."

"So, how did Burke take you two being married?"

Cristina went to answer but then closed her mouth. Burke actually didn't know. He hadn't asked and she hadn't told, but she imagined it was assumed. He must have picked up on the electricity between them, humming just beneath the surface of all their interactions.

Then again, she knew denial could be a powerful thing, and the more she thought, the more she began to think that Dr. Preston Burke was blissfully unaware of her new, married state.

* * *

He found her again on her way out. She managed to get out a few minutes earlier than Owen and was heading to their car when he found her. Again, he called her name but this time there was nothing but a settling wave of disappointment. She thought of their time together as she turned toward him, the hopes she had held for the two of them. Instead, he went and disappointed her. Hurt her.

"I'm only going to ask you one more time for that drink," he said with an easy grin.

"I appreciate the offer, but the answer is the same. I can't have a drink with you, Burke."

"Why not?"

The answer arrived just in time. Owen took his place beside her and casually slid his arm around her waist as he said, "Sorry I was late. I had to tie up a few loose ends."

"No problem," she said.

"I see," Burke murmured after a moment. He eyed Owen casually as he said, "You already have Friday night plans."

Owen went to speak but she interrupted him and said, "No, actually, I'm just going home." She laid her hand on Owen's chest and asked, "You ready to go?" He nodded. "Okay, just give me a minute and I'll meet you in the car."

She could read the hesitation in Owen's eyes and tilted her face up toward him in response. He smiled slightly and pressed his lips to hers before giving Burke a stilted farewell and climbing into the car. Burke's eyes had followed Owen's move into the car but then returned to Cristina.

"Boyfriend?" he asked.

"No, husband."

She could tell he was surprised, but he recovered quickly. "And here I was, thinking you didn't want to get married."

Three years ago, he had been right. Even standing in that ridiculous dress with no eyebrows, she really hadn't wanted the marriage. She had wanted _him_ and that was all. The marriage had been something to suffer through. With Owen it was different. In fact, everything was different.

"Is he good to you?"

"Didn't leave me at the altar."

Burke chuckled and admitted, "I suppose I deserved that. Well, I'm glad you're happy, Cristina. That's all I really ever wanted. And you look happy."

"I am," Cristina said, the bitterness that had been holed up inside for so long stripped from her as she thought of just how profoundly happy she had become since Owen. He had changed the game. Changed her. "I was broken and he put me back together," she told Burke. "I doubted myself-lost myself-and he brought me back. He brought me back from the edge and has never wavered. And for that, neither have I."

At the end of her little speech, she was surprised to see Burke completely stripped of charm or affectation. He was looking at her with this naked expression, and it was impossible to not draw the obvious conclusion. He saw it. He saw what she knew. What Owen knew.

She loved Owen as she had never loved him. Never _could_ love him.

"I should go," Burke said, his voice betraying as much, if not more than his gaze had. "It was nice seeing you."

"You too." She turned back toward the car before he had a chance to linger and climbed into the car. She noticed the tight grip of Owen's hands on the steering wheel and reached over and tugged one of his hands away, interlacing her fingers with his.

"I would kick that guy's ass if he didn't sound so defeated in the end there."

She kissed his hand and said, "It's because I'm the one thing in his life that didn't come easily. I didn't fit, no matter how hard he tried to mold me."

Owen shook his head. "You shouldn't have to be _molded_ into anything."

"Owen-"

"You're a remarkable woman, Cristina. You brought _me_ back from the edge. I had serious problems but you never ran away. Not once."

She leaned forward and kissed him, pressing her hand on his cheek and feeling the rough stubble beneath her fingertips. His arm slid around her waist and their lips parted, foreheads gently touching. Softly, she murmured, "Let's go home."

**A/N: So, this probably was not as drama-filled as some of you hoped it would be. But I really wanted to show that their marriage, their bond, was strong enough to withstand this without Owen going complete caveman. Also, I didn't want to villify Burke. Hope you still enjoyed it!**

**Let me know your thoughts!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Here is a little ditty about Burke finding out Cristina and Owen are parents. It is short. So, quick-hopefully satisfying-read!**

Family Portrait

Despite what people say about Preston Burke, at the end of the day he was a good man. Yes, when he first returned to Seattle Grace, he had entertained ideas of perhaps rekindling something with Cristina, but all plans had been put on hold indefinitely when he met Owen Hunt. He did not interfere with marriages. Or clear happiness, for that matter.

Therefore, he kept Cristina at an arm's distance. He had intended to put her on his service, but decided against it. He didn't know if he would be able to remain professional when put in a situation so reminiscent of their time together. So, he performed the surgery with a rather shoddy intern-he would talk to Richard about that later-and succesfully saved his patient's life. Discharge papers signed, pleasantries exchanged, it was time to depart.

He decided he would talk to Cristina one last time. He was making a few final additions to the chart when he caught sight of her coming out of the elevator. A smile lit his face and he went to wave, but his hand froze midair when he spotted Owen behind her. He was holding a baby, whose eyes were undoubtedly his mother's. He didn't dare breathe as she turned back to Owen, a content grin on her face as she tenderly touched her son's cheek and kissed the top of his head. He had to look away when she turned her face up to her husband.

They disappeared down a corridor and he stared after them, unable to move. He couldn't say goodbye to her now and it occurred to him that perhaps she wouldn't want him to. So, they left things just the way they were. He still hadn't said goodbye.

**A/N: Yes, this was short. But I didn't want to give it a whole long chapter. And I didn't really want Burke to interact with Sam. Anyhoo, next chapter is one of my favorites! It's all written and ready to go. So, leave some feedback! New chapter will be up before the weekend :D**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: New chapter! I am in love with this. Possibly because I am a huge cook and love writing about it. So...hopefully you like this as much I _loved_ writing it! **

Cristina Cooks

When Cristina put her mind to something, she had a singular focus that no amount of outside noise or distraction could break through. She had used this focus while she was in school, in order to get the sort of grades that got her into good med schools. Then, she used it again to get scores that would get her into good internships. Past that, she had used it in every surgery, every trite hospital competition Bailey set. She had even used it in the early days of her and Owen's marriage, the lack of surgeries setting her attention and skill on decorating the apartment, becoming the perfect wife.

Now, she was calling on her superhuman focus yet again. But it wasn't for a surgery. Or even an article. No, this was something entirely different. Cristina Yang was going to learn how to cook.

It all started when Owen made an off-handed remark about how Beth would cook for him. They were on the couch, her feet propped up on his lap. He rubbed her feet while she thought through what he had said. Sure, the comment had been casual but did he mean something behind it? Cristina was hardly the domestic type, but he had to know that.

"Did you like it?" she asked gingerly.

"Like what?"

"The cooking," she clarified, watching his expression carefully. He nodded noncommittally and told her, "Yeah, I guess."

She nodded, pressing her lips together as she chose not to respond. He easily read her silence and said, "I don't care that you don't cook for me, Cristina. It's not your thing. I get that."

"It's not my thing?" she repeated. "What do you mean it's not my thing?"

He saw he was treading on dangerous ground and attempted to change the subject. Cristina, however, was having none of it. "You don't think I can cook," Cristina accused.

"Well, for the three years I have known you I haven't seen you cook once."

"Just because you don't see me cook, doesn't mean I don't do it," she said, now in a complete huff as she wrenched her feet from his lap.

"Cristina," he sighed.

"I'm cooking," she announced. "From now on, I am going to cook dinner and show you that I can cook."

"Cristina, we're barely here for dinner," he reminded her gently. "And with Sam-"

"I'll cook on the weekend," she interjected, nodding her head firmly. "Yes, I will make a dinner for Saturday nights."

"You don't have to do this," he said, leaning forward and capturing her hand with his own. "I don't care that we eat a lot of take out."

She was still a bit teed off at him but ran her thumb over the back of his hand, anyway. "You think I can't cook and I am going to prove you wrong."

* * *

_The First Dinner_

She chose Ina Garten to be her cooking guru, purely because her show was called _Back to Basics_. If the woman had an entire show teaching the basics, she had to be good. And basics was something Cristina could handle, could _master_.

Lemon Thyme Chicken.

She memorized the recipe, wanting to be in full control once she stepped into the kitchen. All the ingredients were bought and lined in an orderly fashion on the counter. She was prepared. She was ready. Last minute, though, she felt a flash of nerves and decided she wanted some company while she cooked. Owen was banned from the kitchen, but she grabbed Sam's highchair and slipped him into his seat.

"Alright, Mommy is cooking for your Dad tonight," she said, putting the skillet on the stove and turning on the gas beneath it. "Your dad thinks I can't cook," she continued. "But I am going to prove him wrong."

She wandered over to the counter and picked up the chicken, prepared to dredge. She had googled it. Youtubed it. Seen Ina Garten herself, do it. She was ready to get into action. After properly dredging, she put the chicken breasts to the side and poured some oil into the pan. Next she added the chicken and she nodded succinctly when it sizzled properly.

Everything was going according to plan. She poured in the bit of wine and lemon juice, then set the timer. Wiping her hands on her newly bought apron she turned to Sam and said, "See? Mommy can cook."

* * *

The three of them sat at the kitchen table, Cristina and Owen cutting into their chicken while Sam dipped one pudgy hand into his small bowl of cheerios. Owen glanced at the chicken, swallowing hard when he saw the pinkish tint of the meat. He looked up at Cristina and saw her staring at her chicken in much the same manner that he had. Her eyes rose to meet his and she pursed her lips into a frown as she stood and grabbed both of their plates. "Not a word," she ordered.

She stuck Owen's in the microwave and took out her frustration on the machine's buttons. Behind her Owen filled his salad plate with the salad she had thrown together quickly. He took a large mouthful and chewed, nodding his head appreciatively. "Good salad, hun."

"Anyone can make a salad," she huffed.

_The Second Dinner_

Okay, so the basics had proved a bit more difficult than she anticipated. Still, she was undaunted. Cristina Yang was going to cook. There was no question, no discussion. She was going to cook and she was going to cook well.

Pasta.

Who messes up pasta? Even her equally culinary-challenged husband could make pasta, so she knew she could handle this. Her time in the kitchen was short this round, but she brought Sam along for moral support again. He seemed to enjoy his prime seat, watching her and making the occasional incoherent babble.

"Doesn't it smell good?" she asked in Sam's direction. He gurgled in response and she grinned, stopping her cooking long enough to give him a quick kiss on his cheek. "That's right, Sam. Mommy is going to win tonight. She's going to prove she can cook."

"Smells good, Cristina!" Owen called from the living room.

"No talking," she called back. "You're going to jinx me."

"I'm-"

"Ah!" she interrupted, "Shush!" She moved back to the stove and gave her pasta sauce a quick stir. He obeyed her call for silence and she rewarded him by saying, "Dinner will be ready in five minutes."

* * *

The pasta was cooked perfectly. The sauce was flavorful and complex, or at least that's what Tyler Florence had said. But as she ate the pasta, chewing thoughtfully, she came to one devastating conclusion.

"Yours is better," she said, setting down her fork. "Your sauce comes out of a jar, but yours tastes better!"

"I think it's good," he told her, pushing a piece of pasta around the plate to sop up more sauce. "Really, Cristina, it's good."

She frowned. As far as she was concerned, she still had not proven herself as a cook.

_The Last Supper_

Baked chicken and rice.

The rice overflowed twice.

Losing track of time as she tended to that damn rice, the chicken burnt.

She hated cooking. Hated it. _Hated_ it.

She sank to the floor, back pressed against the oven. "Owen!"

"Am I allowed in your sanctuary?" he teased.

"Just get your ass over here," she groaned. He came into the kitchen, laughing when he saw her sitting on the floor. Without hesitation he sat down beside her, laying a hand on her knee.

"So, Thai or Mexican?" he asked, pulling out his cellphone.

She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. "Thai."

**A/N: So...Cristina has found something she cannot do. Cue the gasps. lol**

** You guys like?**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Okay, so this chapter is a special one. Why, do you ask? Well, it is actually based on a real story from my family. So, that means that this actually happened. Well, part of it. haha Hope you enjoy!**

Draft

Cristina walked into the house, mail tucked under one arm as she closed the door. The hospital had been a mess today. All of her patients seemed to have read in today's horoscope that they all were expected to be irrationally difficult and disregard every bit of information that she had given them. And then she was stuck with Kepner. She got that they had gone through a pretty traumatic experience together. And yes, it had worked to mend her working relationship with Meredith, but Cristina still couldn't stand the dud. It didn't help that her husband hadn't been able to stop talking about her after that silly trauma demo he set up.

Her husband.

He was a complex, often irritating, but endlessly fascinating man. Whether he was playing overprotective husband, or forcing a Santa-suit-clad-Alex on their son, she could never predict his next move with certainty.

For instance, in this moment he was laying on the floor of their rec room doing God knows what. Belly to the floor, he had a look of sheer determination on his face that didn't really seem to match the situation.

She set the mail on the table. "Um, what are you doing?"

"There's a draft."

She walked over, standing over him. "Uh huh, they happen."

"But Sam plays on this floor," Owen continued, shifting his body toward the right. "I don't want our kid playing in a draft."

"Our kid has been playing on this floor for months now," she reminded him. "And draft or no draft, he doesn't seem too worse for wear."

"He's just gotten lucky," Owen told her, glancing up. She fought back laughter, thinking that he looked absolutely ridiculous peering up at her from the ground. He continued to speak as he shifted more on the ground, "I'm not taking any chances. So, I'm trying to find the source of the draft. And then I'm going to fix it."

She took off her coat and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched her husband continue this ridiculous task. She kicked her foot along the carpet, wondering if he could feel the vibrations through the floor. He didn't even glance over at her, instead dead set on finding the source of this draft.

She had to admit it was sort of endearing. Her husband was flat on his stomach, searching out some phantom draft. And he had such _determination_ with it all.

Sighing lightly, she dropped down to her knees and took the spot beside him. The phantom draft blew lightly against her face and she murmured, "Okay, I feel it."

He glanced over at her with a smirk and said, "I wasn't making it up, Cristina." It blew in again and Owen's eyes snapped toward the ceiling to floor window. "There," he said, rising to his knees and crawling over. "Yeah, this is it."

Cristina sat up and said, "A draft from a window. Well, that's predictable."

"The seam must not be tight enough," he said running his hand along the bottom of the window. He stood up then and offered her his hand. She took it and rose to her feet, Owen's arm sliding around her waist as they both stared at the renegade window.

"An easy fix," he said, giving the side of her waist a light tap. "And then there will be no draft."

"Look at you with your _easy fix_," she said, giving him a soft grin. "It's like I'm in my very own episode of _Home Improvement._"

He grinned and enveloped her waist completely with his arms. He kissed her lightly, his nose brushing hers as he murmured, "I'm a handy guy."

"That you are," she agreed.

"You know, Sam is asleep…"

Cristina's eyes darkened at the insinuation and she purred, "Well, then you better show me just how _handy_ you can be."

**A/N: Some married sexy time ensues, lol. Hope you enjoyed this!**

_** Promotion Time: I posted "Green Monster", a Season 5 story set in "Rise Up". Owen has a little chat with Cristina in the supply closet about Mark Sloan. Cristina is not amused. Check it out!**_


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: New chapter! This is a little one, leading in to the next longer one. Hope you enjoy!**

One year and nine months

One year and nine months ago, Cristina was barely getting by. She still felt the pull at the base of her belly when she walked into the OR. Her nights were dotted with visions of bullets and jaws slackened with traech tubes. Owen knew she wasn't healed. He recognized the emptiness of her eyes, the distance of her touch. He knew it intimately, and now understood the delicate role she herself had played back when he was recovering. Regardless of how much he wanted to help her, there was little he could do.

And then the strip turned blue. Her first thoughts were that it was all wrong. She was broken and damaged, how could she ever raise a child? She had found strength in his eyes, though. He thought that she could do it, and she decided not to question him. She could do it. She _would_ do it.

She knew motherhood would be a change, but she could have never anticipated just how dynamic becoming a mother would prove. Suddenly, there was someone else for her look after. Her life was no longer all surgeries and clinicals, and as she logged more and more hours in her son's nursery, she slowly felt herself begin to heal.

One year and nine months, and she could stand in an OR without problem. Her hand never trembled, her focus never faltered. She never regretted going through with the pregnancy. She never doubted it, because it had brought her something so obviously perfect. She had not only found herself again, or found a son. She had found a family.

Her, Owen and Sam. It was the family that she always secretly yearned for since she felt her father's beating heart still beneath her fingertips. Something had been taken from her that day. She had lost her family and with Sam, she had found it again.

She wandered into the nursery, smiling softly when she saw Owen leaning over the cradle. She moved beside him and put her hand beside his on the cradle's bar.

"I can't believe he's going to be one tomorrow," Owen murmured, moving his hand along the bar to cover hers.

"Me neither," Cristina said. "That means I have to clean the house for the party."

Owen chuckled and slipped an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "I'll do the vacuuming."

"Good." She rested her head on his arm. "I hate vacuuming."

"Well, I need to look over some articles," Owen sighed, giving her side a little squeeze before leaving the room. Alone, she leaned in toward the sleeping Sam and whispered, "You were a pretty wonderful surprise, kid."

**A/N: Next chapter will be Sam's first birthday party! Please leave feedback.**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: New chapter! New chapter! New chapter!**

Magical Cake

They had been through a lot together. They survived the ups and downs of relationships. Mergers. Surgeries. Shootings. They had started out as colleagues, and at the end of it all friends. It was as the latter they gathered to celebrate the first birthday of Sam. Meredith had once said that the little boy was hope. That was still true. He was proof that good things could still come after so much tragedy. He made them believe and showed them just how far all of them had come.

Cristina padded over to the front door, opening it to reveal a grinning Meredith, Derek standing just behind her.

"Do you have it?" she asked.

"Do I have it?" Derek echoed jovially. "You really think I would forget?"

"Ignore him," Meredith advised, stepping past Cristina. She felt her nerves settle a bit when she saw Sam's cake in his hands. "See," he pressed. "Just like we promised."

"Thank you," she mumbled, gesturing toward the kitchen as she said, "You can put it in there."

"Derek!" Owen said jovially, clapping his friend's shoulder. "I see you have the cake."

"Cristina didn't think I would remember it," Derek said, shooting Cristina a look as he set the cake on the table. He looked back to Owen and said, "Do you really think I would deny Sam the one year old right of smashing cake in his face?"

"He is not doing that," Cristina said crisply. "McBaby might, but Sam most definitely is not."

Meredith chuckled, laying her hand on her protruding belly. The strip had turned blue four months ago. She had told Derek first, but Cristina was the close second.

"I don't like that you're already judging McBaby," Meredith teased.

"Not my fault it won't have Owen and my superior genes."

"My mother is Ellis Grey," Meredith reminded her with a grin.

"Yeah, and look how well that turned out."

Owen and Derek watched their wives spar and Owen remarked, "It's a wonder they're actually friends."

* * *

An hour later, the rest of the party shuffled in. They all sat around Cristina and Owen's spacious living room, Sam being passed from one lap to the next. It was clear which lap Sam liked the best, determined by level of fussiness. He seemed to share his mother's mistrust of Alex Karev, reaching out toward anyone near as he wailed loudly. He did not share his mother's annoyance with Lexie, curling up happily in her lap. Lexie's fascinating necklace, however, might have played a role. He was impartial to Callie and Arizona, but remarkably taken by Mark Sloan, who was more than happy to play with the kid. Whatever people said about the guy, it couldn't be denied that he had a way with children.

"So, how is it?" Derek asked, standing with Owen as he made the guests a few drinks. "It's great, isn't it?"

"What is great?"

Derek grinned. "Being a father." Owen mirrored Derek's facial expression and nodded, pouring rum into a rum and coke. "You know, it really is. It's the best thing that's happened to me."

"Cristina's really embraced being a mother," Derek noted, pushing another glass toward Owen when his friend gestured toward it. He threw in some ice and thought about just how much it had taken to get his wife to embrace it all. Looking at her now, it was hard to believe that she ever doubted having children. But she had.

"It took her a bit," Owen admitted. "There were a few freak-outs. Late night talks. But she came around."

"It's good to know that one half of the twisted sisters has successfully entered parenthood," Derek said, laughing slightly. "Gives me hope for my half."

"Meredith will be a great mom."

"Yeah," Derek agreed, turning his head to glance at his wife in the other room. "She will."

"And this feeling right now," Owen continued, "the excitement, anticipation. It only gets better. Trust me, it only gets better."

* * *

Typically, one states that gifts are optional when inviting people to a party. Emily Post would probably say you don't want to pressure people into buying. It's impolite. Whatever. Cristina never believed all that etiquette crap and believed that her son turning one was a momentous, gift-deserving occasion. Therefore, when Cristina invited everyone to her son's first birthday, she told them that gifts, in fact, were not optional. They were mandatory.

"I don't get why people give gifts to babies," Alex complained, watching Sam's ineffectual fingers pull at the wrapping paper. "It's not like he's going to remember any of it."

"It's the thought that counts," Lexie countered from Sloan's arms. "And besides, even if he doesn't remember, he likes it. Look how happy he is!"

On cue, Sam gurgled contently, slapping his palms on a bundle of Disney fairytales. Alex silently conceded that the kid was pretty cute looking all excited but remarked, "He can't even read them."

"Evil spawn, less talking more passing," Cristina said, holding out her hand. Alex had been put in charge of gift duty and he frowned before picking up the next gift and handing it to Cristina. He glanced at the tag and muttered, "It's from Callie and Arizona."

"Oh!" Arizona exclaimed. "You are going to love this!" She reached forward and gave Sam's tummy a small tickle, making him giggle. "You are going to just love this! Yes you are!"

Owen reached forward and ripped off enough of the paper so that Sam could grab a hold of it and tear it partially. Sam had a penchant for ripping the paper and giggled uproariously as he ripped it more.

"We should have just given him wrapping paper," Sloan pointed out, laughing a bit as Sam began to giggle again.

"I don't know why this is so funny," Meredith said, unable to stop laughing. "But it really is."

"Okay buddy," Owen said, giving Sam's head an indulgent pat. "Want to see what's in there?" Sam simply pulled the paper more, giggling at the ripping sound. "Or you can keep ripping the paper."

"This is going to take forever," Alex groaned.

* * *

Alex's mood improved considerably when it came time for the cake. First off, Cristina had talked with Arizona and ordered it from the same place that had catered her babyshower.

And everyone knew that was damn good cake.

Plus, there was no wrapping paper nearby, which Alex appreciated since he was the only person in the house who did not find Sam's fascination with the ripping adorable.

Sam was pretty happy about it being cake time, too. In fact, he seemed pretty happy in general. It appears that even a one year old knows when he is the center of attention. And who can be unhappy with that?

"Okay everyone," Owen said, looking around. "On the count of three. One. Two Three-"

The group launched into a spirited, albeit off-key, rendition of _Happy Birthday_. Owen slipped an arm around Cristina, both of them exchanging a look as they both accepted the fact that a year had already passed. It seemed just yesterday that he was spitting peas at them. Now he was turning one.

But still spitting peas.

Everyone clapped at the end of the song, Sam looking around in wonder as he no doubt wondered what all these crazy people were doing clapping. Cristina crouched down beside the highchair and pointed toward the lone candle on the cake. "One year, little man. Congratulations."

She blew out the candle and then turned back to Sam, unable to stop grinning as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. Owen followed suit and as they both stood up straight he grinned and pulled her to him, giving her a quick kiss.

"Well, we didn't kill him."

Cristina chuckled. "No, we didn't."

"Alright, moment of truth," Derek said, looking at Cristina. She raised her eyebrows and he said, "Cake. Face smashing. You know."

"Ha, not happening," she said, shaking her head. "Remember? He has genius parents so-"

"Oh my God!" Meredith breathed out, covering her mouth as she began to laugh. Cristina glanced down at her son, gasping lightly when she saw his hand buried in the cake. He put a fistful into his mouth, the majority of the cake ending up on his shirt and on the floor.

Laughter spread through the room, Meredith laughing so hard that tears were rolling down her cheeks. With his arm around his wife, Derek said, "What were you saying about genius parents?"

"Does this mean we're not getting cake?" Alex asked, in a near panic. He looked around spastically. "Seriously-we better still get cake!"

"You'll still get cake," Owen said, laughing as he headed into the kitchen. He came back with a knife and began to cut the pieces. He set one in front of Sam, who resorted again to using his pudgy hands as utensils.

Cristina took her piece of cake from Owen and glanced down at Sam, frowning. "He better grow out of this."

Owen only laughed.

* * *

Cristina gathered up the last of the wrapping paper, stuffing it into the garbage bag. The company had left an hour ago and her and Owen had been cleaning up. She pushed her hair out of her face and said, "I swear, this party was harder to clean up from than some of the ones at Meredith's when we were interns. And trust me-those were messy parties."

"Don't you know, a mess after a party means it was a success?"

She snorted, cinching the bag shut. "You just made that up, didn't you?"

"Yup."

She walked over to the back door to take out the garbage, stopping at Sam's room. She glanced in, watching Sam sleep in his crib. Owen came to her side and he said, "Witness a sugar coma in action."

She leaned her head on his arm and said, "Yeah. I still can't believe he did the cake-mashing thing."

Owen grinned. "You're not going to let this go are you?"

"Nope."

He kissed her cheek while taking the garbage from her hand. As he headed to the back to throw it out she called after him, "Thank you!"

She went into the kitchen, humming softly to herself as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out the leftover cake. It was a large piece, barely fitting on the plate.

She would fix that.

Grabbing two forks, she walked into the living room and sat down, propping her feet up on the endtable. Owen joined her and she lifted the cake as she said, "Dinner's ready."

Chuckling, he picked up his fork and sat beside her. Happily, they dug into the cake, Cristina resting her head casually on his shoulder. "You know, I'm actually really glad that I had that stupid baby shower," she said.

"Because of the cake?" he asked knowingly.

She turned her face up to his and smirked. "Exactly."

"You, Meredith, Alex-I don't get what's so great about the cake."

"Are you kidding me?"

"It's just cake."

"_Magical_ cake," she corrected. "It is _magical."_

"Still only cake."

She paused for a moment and then shrugged. "Whatever. More cake for me."

"Sam's asleep, you know…" Owen said casually, glancing down at her.

"Yeah."

"He had a lot of excitement today. So he'll probably be sleeping for a while."

She nodded in understanding, but asked, "Mind if I finish this first?"

He stared at her in disbelief, unable to really form a coherent thought. His wife really never ceased to surprise and confuse him. After a moment he murmured, "I can't believe it. I've been upstaged by cake."

**A/N: You like? Happy the cake made a comeback? I was thoroughly amused by it. If you liked this, PLEASE leave feedback! Last chapter was down quite a lot in feedback, so if you thought this was fun-or terrible-let me know!**

**Alright-off to watch the NEW EPISODE OF GREYS!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: This was supposed to be up tomorrow night, but I couldn't help myself! Hope you like this!**

A Very Grey's Superbowl

Derek had given Weber the small basketball hoop when he reclaimed the title of Chief. He had little use for it in the house after all; and it did fit perfectly in the office. Weber graciously accepted the gift, unaware of the hoop's water-hole tendencies. Male surgeons flocked to it in between procedures and paperwork, just as they had for the short while Derek occupied the office. At first, Weber had balked at it all. Seemed a bit unprofessional, unruly. The office was _his_ again, after all, and he was not accustomed to such an open door policy. After a few days, though, he warmed up to it. There was a sort of camaraderie in it all that he found comforting in his early days back on the saddle.

"I'm having a Superbowl party at my place," Derek said, tossing the small basketball to Weber. "You should come." He looked around at the other two men, Owen and Mark, and amended, "You all should."

"Sounds fun," Owen answered.

"And bring your women, of course." He addressed each separately as he listed off, "Lexie, your wife."

"Will do," Mark said smoothly, picking the ball off the floor after Weber missed and lopping it in the general direction of the hoop. It hit the rim and he frowned. "Man we suck at this. It's a wonder we make our money with precision."

"Speak for yourself," Derek answered, picking up the ball and easily throwing it into the hoop. "I'm awesome."

"Yeah, you had hours with this thing," Mark shot back. "We all know what you were really doing when you were Chief."

"Don't you all have surgeries to do?" Weber interrupted with a good-natured grin.

"Yeah," Mark sighed begrudgingly. Owen and Derek muttered similar responses and Weber nodded succinctly as he said, "That's what I thought. Go on and do your job. The hoop will be here when you get back."

Weber watched the men shuffle out and chuckled softly to himself. Alone again, he bent forward and picked up the discarded basketball. He tested his arm for a moment and then threw the ball. A triumphant grin spread on his face as he made the basket perfectly.

Best office-warming gift ever.

* * *

Cristina sat with Meredith in the cafeteria, flipping through a parenting magazine as Meredith described her husband's latest foray into entertaining. She half-listened, her mind stretched between party dips and onesies.

"You're coming right?" Meredith asked.

"We'll have to see if we can get a sitter."

"No, you should bring him," Meredith said immediately. Cristina rested her head on her hand and said, "Isn't it like a rule not to bring children to parties? I think the technical term is buzz kill."

Meredith rolled her eyes and said, "Sam is anything but a buzz kill. We all love him and would be more than happy to take turns keeping him occupied."

"That means no tequila," Cristina warned. "I've seen drunk Meredith and she cannot be within three feet of my kid. In fact, drunk anyone is off-limits. Drunk Lexie, particularly, something tells me she would start crying over him or something."

"We are adults," Meredith reminded her with a small grin. "We can handle our liquor. And I really think you should bring Sam."

"Alright," Cristina conceded. She wasn't entirely convinced by Meredith's comforting retort that they could all hold their liquor, but she didn't care to chat about the party anymore. Frankly, she wanted to finish her article. As she returned to the literature she offhandedly remarked, "I'll talk to Owen."

* * *

"That's fine," Owen said after listening to his wife unexcitedly propose they take their son to Meredith and Derek's that Sunday. She looked at him in surprise and he said, "What, did you expect me to say no?"

"No," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You said yes awfully fast. You know, we're going to be the _parents_ at the party."

"With any luck, everyone else will play the parents and we'll get a night off," he suggested with a hopeful look. Cristina knew better. Owen reacted like a junkie when that little boy was not in his arms for five minutes. "Besides," he continued, "it's probably about time our boy witnessed his first football game."

Cristina rolled her eyes and dryly remarked, "You going to introduce him to his first four letter word, too? Maybe give him a sip or two of your Guinness?"

"Only if he asks," Owen answered easily.

"Alright, then we'll go," she said, dropping onto the couch and propping her feet up on the coffee table. "But Sam doesn't get any beer. Even if he asks."

"You drive a hard bargain," Owen said with feigned solemnity, settling beside her on the couch. "What if he asks for a different type of alcohol?"

"Don't test your luck here, Hunt."

"Whatever you say, dear."

* * *

"Come on Steelers!" Sloan cried out, gesturing angrily at the television. "Pick it up!"

Cristina sat beside Meredith on the couch. The latter balanced a half full bowl of chips on her lap and Cristina reached over and picked out a chip, popping it in her mouth as she asked, "Do you have any idea what's going on?"

"Not a clue," Meredith answered.

"He just missed the twenty yard line," Owen explained on Cristina's other side. She turned her head toward her husband and said, "Yeah, still not making a lot of sense."

"This just means good things for my team," Richard said, lounging comfortably in his seat. A Packers fan, the direction of the game was sitting pretty well with the Chief. Sloan, Derek, and Owen were on the Steeler's side and all shot him a glare as he chuckled easily in his seat.

Boss or not-this was football. It was about to get real.

"Keep that trash talk to yourself, Richard," Derek said. "We'll pick it back up."

"There's still time," Owen added rationally. "And besides, your team is known for choking."

"Damn it!" Sloan yelled, hands pulling at his hair as the Steelers fumbled. Not a second later Lexie slapped him hard, gesturing to little Sam who was staring at him from Callie's lap. "Sorry, little guy," Sloan said immediately. "That was a bad word. Never say it." He looked back to Lexie. "You happy now?"

"You're being ridiculous," she huffed. "It's only a game."

"It's the _Superbowl_."

"It's a big deal," Owen supplied.

"Whatever," Lexie said, rising from her seat. "I'm going to go to the bathroom."

As Lexie walked off, Cristina called after her, "Thanks for telling us all."

When Lexie left the room, the Steeler's luck seemed to change. They intercepted the ball, causing Sloan, Derek, and Owen to hoot and yell. Even Sam got a little excited, making his father beam.

Richard, feeling his team slip, muttered, "Don't get too excited now, boys."

A few moments later, they had reason to as the Steelers scored a touchdown. Along with the yelling and fist pumping there also was the distinct sound of a toilet flushing and as everyone heard the bathroom door open, Sloan yelled, "No! Stay in the bathroom!"

"What?" Lexie breathed out, poking her head out of the bathroom to look at the group in disbelief. "What-"

"Steelers got a touchdown," Sloan explained excitedly. "Entire time you were here, they were sucking it up. You leave, they get a touchdown. You're bad luck, Lex."

"What? I-that-you are ridiculous! You are _ridiculous_!"

"Don't come back out here," Sloan warned.

"But-"

"Lexie," Derek interrupted, serving as the mediator. Clearly he was on Sloan's side, though, as he said, "This is important. It's almost like life and death. People-"

"Oh no," Lexie said, shaking her head vehemently. "This is _not_ life and death. This is football!"

"Exactly!" Sloan exclaimed, gesticulating sharply in the air with his pointer finger. "Which is why you will stay in the bathroom."

"But-"

"Lexie."

She shot him a withering look and said, "Fine. But you are not getting _any_ sex for a month. No-for two months!"

She disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Sloan sat back down and Callie cooed, "Oooh, you're in trouble."

"I am not in trouble," Sloan said easily. "She'll forgive me."

"I've heard that tone before," Richard said, shaking his head. "That voice holds one big grudge. Adele used it _a lot_."

Sloan's eyes widened and deciding that perhaps the Superbowl was not worth risking his hard-won relationship, Sloan called, out, "Lexie! Lexie, come out here!"

"I thought I wasn't allowed," she yelled back sarcastically.

"Well, now you are!"

"Backtracking," Cristina snorted, knocking her knee against Owen's. "He so is only having her come back out so that he gets some tonight."

Lexie begrudgingly made her way back out and sat beside Sloan. Immediately, the Steelers decline began.

Sloan clenched his jaw.

* * *

"This is really good dip," Cristina remarked, chewing thoughtfully. "Like, really good. And you don't cook."

"Derek does," Meredith said with a grin.

"McDreamy made the dip?" She turned her head toward Derek quickly and repeated, "_You_ made the dip?"

Derek turned his face toward Cristina and smiled, nodding. "Yes, I did. It's Buffalo Chicken. Good, isn't it?"

"Why don't you make dips," Cristina asked Owen, poking him in the arm.

"Um, because I'm a guy?"

"I'm a guy," Derek interjected, leaning forward.

"But I'm a _guy's_ guy," Owen shot back. "No offense, but with your hair, there is no way you are."

"He has a point," Sloan added.

"I don't like this conversation," Derek huffed.

"Look, you're all men," Richard said gruffly. "You happy? Now let's get back to the football."

"Let's not," Sloan said glumly. "Steelers are disappointing with every play."

"What happened to all that hope you had?"

"It died with the Packer's last two touchdowns," Derek said. "The game is pretty much over."

"Back to this dip," Cristina said casually. "You need to make this and bring it to the hospital."

Derek laughed. "Bring it to the hospital, huh?"

"Do you make any other types? If so, bring those, too. We can have, like, a dip station in the doctor's lounge or something."

"No one would get work done," Meredith said.

"I don't care. I want dip."

The Packers scored another touchdown and Richard cheered alone. Sloan frowned and said, "This Superbowl sucks."

* * *

Things Cristina learned about football:

Richard was a poor winnerSloan was a poor loserIt was _fumble_ not _thumble_Lexie was Steelers kryptoniteSam had little interest in the gameShe had little interest in the gameBut anything was made interesting with good dip

**A/N: Did you guys like this? Obviously I don't know who won...but maybe I'm right! Guess we'll see tomorrow, lol.**

**Please leave feedback.**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: This is basically smut. Cannot believe I wrote this. lol Hope you enjoy your Valentines Day treat!**

Lace and Leather

Cristina never liked Valentines Day. It was all fake love and Hallmark cards. A waste of time, she thought. She didn't need the man she was with to tell her that he loved her one particular day of the year. He should tell her every day. He should show her that he cared in all the things he did. Treat her well. Bring her coffee. Owen did all of this, so each Valentines Day that passed throughout their relationship was met with a tepid response from her.

Owen ate all that Hallmark stuff up, of course. He was a romantic at heart, a born-again traditionalist, and he brought her chocolates and flowers. He made her cards with rudimentary drawings that always made her laugh. Her gift was usually just sex.

This year was no different. Sam was napping, passed out from a conversation heart induced sugar high, and the busy parents snatched the stolen moment.

"How long do you think we have?" Owen asked, removing his pants.

"Twenty minutes, maybe thirty?"

"Perfect," he said with a grin. Cristina peeled off her shirt and his throat went dry as she revealed a lacy black bra. He sat down on the bed and she followed him, lowering herself onto his lap. With her arms around his neck she murmured, "Time for your gift."

She reached behind to unclasp the bra but he stopped her, hands tracing their way back to cup her breasts as he murmured, "No, keep it on."

"Alright," she purred, pushing him back on the bed. He took a hold of her waist and flipped her beneath him, his hand travelling down her waist until he made contact between her legs. "These," he said in a low voice, pulling at the smooth silk. "Are going to have to go."

She lifted her hips as he pulled the material down. Leaning back, he pulled the panties past each of her perfect ankles and returned to his position between her legs. Her hands rested at the curve of her hips, fingers twitching as he ran a finger up the inside of her thigh. He just brushed her tender spot as he moved up her body, kissing her warm skin.

She wriggled beneath him, needing contact as his lips found the curve of her jaw. She drew him into her, arching her back as she felt him fill her. It had been a while since they had been together, the time apart only making it more intense. She felt the usual tension build in the bottom of her belly, and she dug her fingernails into his lower back, drawing him in further as she moved against him.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his lips exploring her skin. "You are beautiful."

He dragged a hand along her thigh, pulling her leg up over his hip to drive in even deeper. She gasped at the change, her head tipped back as she spilled over the edge. She couldn't help but cry out, no doubt compromising Sam's nap. The kid miraculously stayed silent, though. Seemed that Cupid was on their side. It was the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced and she laughed at the sheer perfection of it.

"Wow," he breathed out, rolling off her and turning on his side. An arm draped itself protectively around her waist and she leaned into him. "That was amazing."

"Amazing," she agreed.

"And this," he murmured, running his hand over the lace of her bra. "This is amazing. Your gifts always trump mine."

"You're right," she said. "The bra is hot."

He laughed, nuzzling his face in the curve of her neck. "Happy Valentines Day, Cristina."

She grinned and covered his arm with her own. "Happy Valentines Day."

**A/N: Alright, I am going to hide now. lol Hope this wasn't too terrible to read! Would love to hear your thoughts on this!**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: So, I have been rewatching Grey's on Netflix. Just finished Season 2 and I remember when it first aird I HATED Addison. Rewatching them, I actually really like her! Funny how your taste changes when you get older. Anyhoo, here is the new chapter. **

Scars

The scars of the past never fade.

She saw it out of the corner of her eye. A flash of silver and she was thrown against the wall, her eyes widening as she saw a man descend on her formerly stable patient with a knife. He wasn't stable anymore; that much was clear. Six hours under the knife was rendered useless by the slice of a different one. She knew she should cry out. Logically speaking, that was what someone should do when her patient was being knifed by a crazed man in a White Sox hoodie, but she couldn't catch her breath. Her entire body seemed to be frozen, fingers stiff and throat closed. All she could do was watch, her mouth opening and closing as she inwardly yelled for someone to do _something_.

Jackson stumbled into the room and his eyes widened, a moment of hesitation reading on his face before he lunged forward. His body came into contact with the assailant and they crashed to the floor, taking down a small table of instruments on the way down. One scalpel hit her foot and it sent a shock through her body, catapulting her from the wall and through the door. Already security was rounding the corner and she pointed wordlessly toward the room, unable to look as they strode in.

"Cristina."

Meredith was at her side and she looked at her friend, her entire body beginning to tremble as the adrenaline left her body. There had been the shock and then the terror. Then Jackson on the floor and that knife, still glinting under the cheap hospital lights.

She turned suddenly, Meredith's haphazard grip on her wrist slipping as Cristina staggered toward the room. Jackson walked out, wiping away a thin trail of blood from beneath his nose and she stood still.

"We need to stop getting in these situations together," he said, smiling humorlessly.

Behind him the security guards pulled out the assailant. He fought against them, one eye swollen from Jackson's fist. He railed and spat, when his eyes met Cristina's for a moment her hands went numb.

"What the hell?" Teddy bit out, moving past Cristina and Meredith as she rushed toward the room. It was then that Cristina heard the alarming cries of the patient's monitors. She hadn't been able to hear anything beside the roar of blood and panic. As her body settled, so did her focus.

"You can't go back in there," Meredith said, reading her friend's motives clearly as she stepped forward.

"I have a patient to save," Cristina answered, ripping her arm from Meredith's grasp. The patient came to her as Teddy emerged from the room with the bed and asked, "You coming, Dr. Yang?"

"Of course, Dr. Altman."

Worry read in Meredith's eyes, but she knew better than to fight Cristina. She followed Teddy to the OR and took her part in the damage control. The stabbing had seriously compromised the patient, but they were able to get the bleeding under control. Only a few hours and the patient had returned to stable. Despite a few more stitches, it was as if the stabbing hadn't happened at all.

Cristina spoke to the patient's family and gave them the good news. She returned to the room and checked on the patient, methodically checking the chart and monitors. As she closed the patient's chart she noticed a purple bruise blooming just beneath the skin of her forearm. She tugged her shirt sleeve down.

Everyone wanted to know what happened after. They wanted to hear the story and only after that know how she was. She relayed the events just as she would a surgery, composed and detached.

_I was checking the patient's blood pressure when he attacked._

_ No, I did not see him coming._

_ Yes, I am fine._

Everyone was surprised at how well she was handling it. Especially after _all that_. No one actually put into words what had transpired the previous year, it was _all that_. They were surprised at how fine she was. And for the most part, she _was_ fine. No one had been seriously injured. No one had died.

She had almost deluded herself into thinking that it really hadn't bothered her until Owen found her in the locker room sobbing to the point of hiccups. He sat beside her on the bench, strong arms holding her close as she pulled desperately at his scrubs.

"You're okay," he murmured, smoothing her curls away from her face. "You're fine, Cristina. Everyone is fine."

She wanted to believe him, but she knew in her heart that he was wrong. They were not fine. They were getting along, but they would never be fine again. How could they after all they had been through? After all, the scars of the past never fade.

**A/N: Feedback is awesome. Yay.**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: These chapters take longer and longer to write. Hope this was worth the wait!**

Biding Time

At first, she was entirely against returning to therapy. He had mentioned it casually over dinner and she sent him such a look that even Sam stopped his gurgling and looked anxiously down at his mashed carrots. "I don't need therapy."

"It can't hurt, Cristina."

"Why would I go back if I don't need it?"

"Relapses happen," he said gently. "It doesn't make you weak or-"

"I have not relapsed," she returned irritably. "I'm fine. Yes, I was a bit shook up from it all but I've moved on. It's nothing."

"Your hand shook during surgery."

Her eyes were caught in his for just a moment and the deep rooted fear flashed in the brown orbs. In that one moment she was caught. Still, she would not give in. Looking down hurriedly, she buried her attention in her meal and mumbled, "Shakes happen."

"Not to you."

"Do you always have to have a response to everything?" she snapped. Sam caught on the tension between his parents and began to cry, his face pulled into a wide grimace. Cristina sighed and reached over, pulling him out of his high chair. Setting him on her knee, she rocked him gently and murmured softly to him. "You've upset him," she accused.

"You can't keep pushing it away," he said. "That's not how it works."

"Look Owen, I don't need a lecture, okay? If I say I'm fine, then I'm fine. Let's just drop it."

"I can't," he said, shaking his head. "Not when you're jeapordizing patient's lives-"

"Just stop it," she hissed. "We're not talking about this anymore."

"Well, we have to talk about it sometime."

"I'm fine," Cristina sighed. "Why can't you just accept that?"

"Because you're not," he answered. "I thought I was fine before, too. I thought I was healed and settled, and then I woke up strangling you."

Her eyes darkened. "Oh, so you think I'll wake up strangling you? Strangling Sam? What are you getting at?"

"That's not what I meant," he said. "You know that's not what I meant."

She sighed, dropping her face to Sam and kissing the top of his head. She took in the clean, powdery scent of his skin and closed her eyes shut. She felt complete with him in her arms. Everything was in line. It was when she was at work that she felt the control slip. The well constructed façade of contentment slipped with the smell of antiseptic and hospital food and her hands began to shake.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, raising her eyes to his again. She laid her hand on the table, palm up, and his fingers met hers. "I can't go back," she murmured softly. "Not yet. I…I need to see if I can work through it myself."

"You're not doing this alone."

"Owen-"

"You don't have to go back to Dr. Wyatt, but I am helping you through this. You don't get to push me aside."

She felt a sudden urge to cry, but managed to overcome it as she spoke around the rather large lump in her throat and said, "Okay."

* * *

She hated that Owen was right. She hated that he kept her on his service exclusively and oversaw all of her surgeries. She hated that he tailored her work to ensure the patient's safety and that he was still so supportive and understanding even when she threw every word of hate and venom she possessed in his path. She hated that Owen was right. And that he was covering her ass. She knew his position; she had lived it. Her love for Burke had driven her to nearly unthinkable measures, and she wouldn't allow Owen to do the same. She had deserved better. He deserved better.

So, she went to therapy.

"Welcome back, Cristina" Dr. Wyatt said with a serene dip of her head. "Nice to see you again."

"Um, thanks, you too."

"So tell me, what brings you here?"

Cristina crossed her legs uncomfortably and stammered, "There was, um, an incident."

"An incident?"

She swallowed hard and took a deep breath before launching into the story. She told it with the same detached tone that she used for explaining surgeries and procedures. Still, her hands tingled when she recalled how she had been flung against the wall, utterly helpless as the man knifed her patient repeatedly.

"I thought I was fine, but some things have been happening."

"What sort of things?"

"I had the steadiest hand at Stanford," Cristina began. "It never shook, not even a little. Ever since the stabbing, I've been experiencing tremors. During surgeries, I've been having tremors."

Dr. Wyatt softly assured her, "These sort of things happen sometimes, particularly when you've undergone a similar trauma." Cristina pursed her lips into a frown, not wanting to hear the certain clarification that was to follow. "Relapses are perfectly normal, Cristina."

"It's not a relapse."

Dr. Wyatt's eyebrows raised and she asked, "Well, then what is it?"

Cristina had no idea. All she knew is that it couldn't be what Dr. Wyatt was proposing, what Owen was proposing. She had come too far to have one isolated incident send her spinning.

"Cristina, why are you really here?"

"I'm scared," she admitted. "I'm terrified that something can just happen and topple everything that I've worked for. I worked to get better. I spent a long time moving on from the shooting. I had worked on getting healed and getting better and now it feels like it was all for nothing. It was for absolutely _nothing_ if one incident can pull me back."

"A relapse is not the end of the world," Dr. Wyatt said carefully. "It's actually quite normal. Healing is a process, an on-going process, and there are bound to be hiccups here and there. Relapsing is normal."

"I can't relapse," Cristina held, shaking her head. "Not now, not when I have so much to lose."

"Cristina-"

"We built something. Together, Owen and I, we built this life. It's everything that I never knew I wanted."

"And?"

Cristina shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "And I'm terrified of losing it."

* * *

Cristina's session with Dr. Wyatt was at three o'clock, but he was kept busy in a surgery until well past four. After scrubbing out, the patient stable, he headed to their on-call room. He figured she would be taking a little down-time before the rush hour crowd came in. Sure enough, he opened the door and found her stretched out on the bed. She was on her side, facing the wall, but he could tell by her breathing that she wasn't asleep, and she turned on her back as he laid down beside her.

"How was it?" he asked.

"I didn't cry, if that's what you're asking." He smiled and she turned in toward him, resting her cheek on his arm. "It was fine," she said after a moment. "I said something, then she did. Further exchanges were, well, exchanged and then my hour was up."

"Did Dr. Wyatt mention me?"

She looked up at him and dryly returned, "The session was about me, remember?"

He chuckled. "I know that."

"Men and their egos," she snipped, giving his arm a light slap. "And no, Dr. Wyatt did not mention you."

"Did you feel the session was helpful. We can, um, talk about it if you want."

"I don't like to talk," Cristina answered.

"Yeah, I've noticed that."

They were silent for a moment, the quiet hum of the air conditioner filling the silence. Finally Cristina cleared her throat and said, "I'm going back next week."

"You are?" He turned on his side to face her and she repositioned herself beside him, slipping her hand under the pillow and looking up at him.

"Yeah, I am. I'm going to be visiting her just until I've gotten over this-" she paused for a moment, "hiccup."

"Hiccup," he repeated.

"I know that I need to work at this," Cristina said slowly, looking down at the blanket to avoid his gaze. "I know that, and I will do whatever it takes. This isn't just about me anymore. It's about you. It's about Sam."

Owen reached beneath her chin and gently rocked her face up to meet his. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. "I am so proud of you." He traced the curve of her cheek with his thumb. "And we'll get past this. It's only a hiccup."

"Only a hiccup," she agreed.

"So, how long do we have until rush hour?" he said, propping an arm behind his head. She glanced at her watch and said, "Twenty minutes."

"Your alarm set?" She nodded. "Come here." He pulled her to him, his body curling around hers. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and his arm wrapped protectively around her. There was something about his embrace that always made her feel so safe. Nothing could touch her when she was wrapped in his arms. She closed her eyes and allowed the steady sound of his breathing relax her. She would take a rest from this endless journey. For a moment she wouldn't be a recovering PTSD case. She wouldn't be Cristina Yang and everything else that accompanied that life. She would only be a wife lying with her husband, biding her time before the chaos resumed.

**A/N: So, I feel that this story is coming to an end. I have LOVED writing this, but it is getting more and more difficult to find actual scenes to write without this becoming completely trivial. So-the end is sadly in sight. There will still be a few more before that, though, so be sure to keep checking.**

** I would love your thoughts on this one. **


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: First off, I hope you enjoy this. Second-_On The Steps_ got an update earlier this weak and is geared for another. Readership seems to be super low for that, so if you have not checked it out yet, make sure to! For those who are unfamiliar it is Cristina/Owen moments in Season 5. Each chapter is an episode. Anyhoo, hope you enjoy this!**

Cristina's Hell-On-Earth

Cristina Yang decided that she could only stomach baby stores when she was there for her own kid. She had taken many a trips to Babies R Us in the months preceding Sam's big reveal. She had strolled up and down aisles, she had picked out onsies, witnessed Owen spend far too long picking out baby thermometers. She had done it all and generally had little trouble tolerating it.

It was different when you were there for another person's kid, though. First off, Meredith didn't even go to a Babies R Us. Instead she suddenly decided to be a perky, crew neck wearing expectant mother and drag Cristina to a place called Cutie Poops.

Cristina was already gagging.

And then Meredith proceeded to be the pickiest, most detail oriented mommy-to-be that her friend had ever witnessed. The woman barely kept her home in order yet she was worrying over whether or not Mickey Mouse was the correct animated character for her child. And then there was the yellow conversation.

"Yellow is not gender neutral," Meredith said, rejecting a yellow onesie that Cristina had tried to force on her. Cristina figured maybe she could speed up the whole process by simply throwing stuff at Meredith. It didn't work.

"Yellow _is_ gender neutral," Cristina answered. "Everyone knows that."

"Do you know any grown man who would voluntarily wear yellow?" Meredith asked. Cristina could not, in fact, think of anyone in particular and when she shook her head Meredith said, "I rest my case."

"That does not prove anything," Cristina returned, shaking her head. "A grown man is completely different from a young kid. And besides, they don't pick their own clothes."

"The grown man or the baby?" Meredith asked with a grin.

Cristina laughed. "Sometimes both."

"Do you dress Owen?"

Cristina snorted and said, "Please, my man dresses me." She plucked at her purple sweater and said, "He picked this out."

"Did he? Well, he did a good job. Although this is taking away slightly from his decree of him being a man's man."

"As long as your husband has that hair, my man will continue being the manly man." Meredith laughed. "And yellow is a gender neutral color so put the onesie back and let's see what's awaiting us at the _check out_."

"We can't leave yet," Meredith said. Cristina frowned as she faced the reality that her friend did want to check out the remaining eight or so aisles. She did notice that Meredith kept the onesie in the cart, though.

Meredith waddled down the aisle and stopped at a row of blankets. As she gave each a thorough examination Cristina leaned heavily on the cart. It was official. Cristina had found her own hell-on-earth.

* * *

An hour later, Cristina walked into the apartment and dropped her bag on the kitchen table as she walked over to the refrigerator and pulled a box of cereal off the top. Owen was on the couch with Sam on his lap and he looked over his shoulder as he said hello.

"I cannot wait until pregnant Meredith is no longer pregnant," Cristina said, plopping down beside him. She leaned down to press a quick kiss to Sam's head and said, "I want to kill her. Seriously, every minute I was with her today was a minute that I wanted to strangle her."

"You shouldn't go to the baby stores with her."

"How can I say no?" She dug her hand into the cereal box and stuffed a fistful of honey nut cheerios into her mouth. "I'm her person."

"Well, then you just have to deal with it."

She glared at him as she ate another few cheerios and said, "You are no help."

"Mama," Sam cooed, reaching toward Cristina. She smiled slightly as Owen handed him over. She rocked Sam up and down on her knee, something she knew that he liked. As he gurgled happily she told Owen, "He agrees with me."

"Of course he does, you're doing the knee thing." She grinned but kept her attention on Sam. He was growing so fast. Already he was talking more and he had gotten so big. The dusting of hair had grown to actual locks and he had begun to pull himself up onto furniture or tables. He hadn't walked yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time. Her baby boy was growing up. Owen tenderly smoothed down one of Sam's cowlick and asked her, "So, how did your therapy session go today?"

"It was good," Cristina said noncommittally. The truth was, it had become a sort of formality-her therapy sessions. Her hands were steady again and everything had gone back to normal. Still she went, though. It was her security blanket, her assurance that everything would remain normal. No more hiccups.

"Dr. Wyatt asked about you today," she said after a moment, remembering how the doctor had inquired of how Owen was handling being a dad. "She asked about you and Sam."

"What'd you say?"

"That you don't feed him."

"Oh, how nice of you." She laughed as he leaned in and kissed her cheek. "No," she remedied, "I told her that you are really good with him. I'm not _that_ mean, after all."

"No, you're not."

"Unless you're Karev, then I really am." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Or you put me in a baby store with Meredith." He let out a bark of laughter before she quickly asked, "Hey, would you say that yellow is a gender neutral color?"

"Yeah," he said immediately, "of course it is."

She smiled triumphantly and said, "I knew I was right. See, this is why I married you. You validate what I say."

"I thought it had a little something to do about love."

She nodded and said, "Yes, I love how you add more validity to the things that I say." He laughed and brushed his lips across the top of her head. "Alright, Cristina, whatever you say."

**A/N: Yes, this was fluff but I loved the idea of Meredith and Cristina going baby-shopping together.**

** Remember to check out _On The Step_'s update!**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: A little Cristina/Owen/Sam scene to fill your Monday :)**

The Title

The whole family was together. Owen was sitting in the arm chair, reading the latest book he picked up from Barnes and Noble. It was fiction, something Cristina could never understand. Why read about something fake when there was so much fantastic, tremendous reality to explore? This was precisely why her reading material of choice was about a transmyocardial laser revascularization.

Owen said her name loudly as she read about angina and possible complications. Not looking up she said, "I'm busy."

"Cristina, put the damn magazine down!" She looked up at him with irritation and he said, "Our kid is taking his first step!"

She dropped the magazine immediately, her head snapping to where Sam was taking his first few wobbly steps. She went to stand but stopped herself, pressing down on the couch heavily with her palms. "Oh my God, he-he's doing it," Cristina enthused. "He's walking!"

While at the moment Cristina's words rang true, gravity had its own ideas and a moment later Sam tumbled forward. While she gasped, Sam thought little of the tumble and pushed back up onto his feet. He didn't cry, not even a whimper. Instead he moved one tiny foot wobbly in front of the other and went on his merry way. As he traversed across the small living area Cristina murmured, "Our kid is freaking remarkable."

**A/N: And I love this. Is it bad to say that about your own work? Oh well, I am saying it anyway. I loved this and I hope you did, too!**

** Again-NEW CHAPTER FOR "ON THE STEPS". It takes place in the episode where Lexie breaks Sloan's penis. Owen and Cristina _might_ discuss this. In an elevator. Check out the chapter. You know you're intrigued ;)**


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